Into the Rose Garden
by Dryad13
Summary: Sarah has good grades, a circle of friends, and a cute boyfriend. Life's great...right? So why does she have the strange feeling that something's missing? Fairy tales show that magic will make you or break you. Which category does she belong in?
1. Life or Something Like It

"_...What might have been and what has been  
Point to one end, which is always present.  
Footfalls echo in the memory  
Down the passage which we did not take  
Towards the door we never opened  
Into the rose-garden. My words echo  
Thus, in your mind..."_

-T.S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton"

Chapter One: Life, or Something Like It 

The park was a veritable sea of green that day. It was late March and the land had just begun to wake from its long winter sleep; bright yellow daffodils rose tall in the flower beds next to the growing stalks of tulips. A brilliant emerald fuzz was sprouting in the tree tops, and the new spring grass outshone it all. The day was unseasonably warm, so the park was bustling. Dogs and frisbees were out in force, and an impromptu soccer game had materialized in a far corner of the field. Mothers pushing strollers vied for space on the paths with joggers, and both groups dodged the young skaters that plowed through the crowd with impunity.

There was a huge, pale oak tree in one corner of the wide open space, on the opposite end of the park from the loud soccer players. It was on a slight rise, right before the grass was interrupted by brush and, further on, swallowed by the woods. It was calm under the oak's widely-spreading branches; the park's normal peace was uninterrupted by picnickers and sunbathers there. Beneath the tree sat a solid marble bench, and on top of the bench sat a girl. She was slim and dark-haired, quiet and pale as the oak behind her. Her name was Sarah Williams and it was her eighteenth birthday.

At that particular moment she was watching a small figure climb the gently sloping hills towards her. As it got closer, she registered its features dispassionately: curly brown hair a few shades lighter than her own, long gangling limbs, dark eyes. Sarah blinked a few times, emerging from her trance. She smiled.

"Aaron."

"Time to go now, dream girl." Sarah pushed herself up from the bench and gave him a short hug.

"What's with all the secrecy? I know you guys are planning something. You might as well tell me."

"But you don't know what we're planning. That's the surprise part. Come on, now. Dinah's going to totally lose it if this doesn't happen soon. She's been practically bursting all week from not telling you."

"Dinah's not good with secrets. She never gets away with anything. If you hadn't been so obvious about suggesting I go to the park after school today, I would have know that a surprise party was in the works from her. 'Oh, Sarah, it's your birthday tomorrow? I completely forgot! I am so sorry!'" Sarah snickered as they strode towards the road.

Aaron's car, an elderly Toyota Camry in a sickly shade of blue, was parallel parked next to the swarming sidewalk. Sarah looked at the mass of humanity before her, wincing, before they pushed through the crowd. They dodged a stroller carrying triplets and were almost run down by two boys on skateboards before they reached the other side. She glanced back and gave the quiet oak tree, her private corner of the park, one last glance. She could see a line of puffy gray clouds emerging from beyond the trees.

"Did the weather guy say it was going to rain today?"

"I dunno." His key unlocked the car doors. Nothing so fancy as a remote for high schoolers; not in their town, at least.

"Looks like a storm is coming in." Sarah swung herself into the passenger seat and closed the door; Aaron's thumped shut next to her. "It always rains on my birthday."

"That sucks."

"Not really. I like thunderstorms, they're neat to watch."

They pulled away from the curb and started down the road, Sarah watching the sky with interest. After a few minutes her expression turned puzzled.

"We're not going towards Dinah's house. We're not even going towards your house, or Ben's."

"Nope."

"Then where are we going?"

"I said that it was what we were planning that was a secret." He frowned. "Oh, crap. I was supposed to make you wear a blindfold. See the bandanna on the dash? Could you put it on? Dinah will kill me if you don't."

"I don't know," replied Sarah uncertainly. "I like being able to see."

"I'll help you once we stop. Just put it on. Please? I'll owe you a back rub."

"Oh, can't resist that," replied Sarah, half-mockingly. She grabbed the cloth from the dashboard, sniffed it, and grimaced. Then she wrapped it around her eyes and tied it at the back of her head.

"Did Dinah give you this? It smells like her dog."

"Hmm. She gave it to me, yes. Don't ask me why it smells."

"Forget the back rub. You're buying me an ice cream cone." She sat back against her seat again, feeling the car accelerate and decelerate and turn. The girl made half an attempt to figure out where they were based on the way the car was moving, but gave it up after the second turn. She turned her attention to the sounds around the car instead. Beyond the music from the radio... traffic noises.

"We're downtown, aren't we? Are we going back to school or something?"

"We're not going back to school." Aaron's voice was wry; she could picture the look on his face, mouth curled upward by a suppressed smile and eyes squinting slightly with humor.

"But we are downtown. I can hear all the cars."

"My lips are sealed."

Sarah pouted half-heartedly and leaned against her window. She could hear the patter of raindrops against the glass; it was raining. Typical, she thought. Just typical. The girl listened lazily for the duration of the trip.

"Okay, here we are." The pronouncement was wonderful to hear. Sarah felt the car pull to a stop.

"Now what? Can I take the blindfold off?"

"No way. Wait a moment, I'll come around and lead you." The sound of the door clicking open and slamming shut; a crunch of gravel, and Sarah's door opened.

"Come on, Aaron, is this really necessary? I promise I'll act surprised no matter what."

"It's just for a few more minutes. Hold out your hand."

She did. Aaron pulled her up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders; she grumbled to herself under her breath. Cold raindrops hit her skin, her clothes, her hair; the rain was trickling off, so it was only sprinkling. She grimaced.

"The smell can't possibly be that bad. Dinah bathes her dog every week."

"It's not that. I just... I don't like not being able to see where I am. I'm afraid of getting lost."

"Childhood trauma?" he asked with a laugh.

"Something like that," she replied distantly. "Are we going or not?"

"Yes, yes. Come along." Aaron began to lead her across what seemed to be a parking lot; she could feel the gravel under her feet, as she had heard it when her boyfriend had opened the door for her. She counted twenty paces and they stepped up onto a sidewalk. He pushed a door open; a tiny bell tinkled in the quiet. Sarah's eyebrows rose dramatically.

"Hey... I know that bell...," she began.

Without warning, Aaron ripped the bandanna off her face and, blinded by the sudden light, the girl heard a group of familiar voices yell, "Surprise!" at the top of their lungs.

Sarah stood there a moment, gaping, eyes wide with unfeigned shock. Then she began to grin broadly, gray-green eyes shining. She recognized the worn black-and-white linoleum, the brick walls hung with pictures, and the long wooden counter; they were in Dinah's family's pizzeria. Normally, at this time of the day, it would be packed with teenagers listening to music and consuming extravagant amounts of pizza. Today, however, it was empty but for a group of Sarah's friends-- Dinah, of course, with her boyfriend Benjamin, another girl named Ellie, and Vince and Tim, who were both part of Benjamin and Aaron's newly formed band. Glittery garlands and balloons were strewn liberally about the room, and the magnetic menu board read "Happy 18th, Sarah". A stack of brightly wrapped boxes was heaped onto one booth's table.

"I..." The girl's voice caught in her throat suddenly; she harrumphed and tried again, blinking back the moisture that was filling her eyes. "Wow. I can't believe this. Thanks, guys. This is great."

"You have seen nothing yet, my friend." Dinah stood up straight, so as to maximize every inch of her 5'2" frame, and waved a hand imperiously behind her. "Right this moment, in this very building, my father, your devoted servant, is preparing the most exquisite, perfectly designed, gastronomically-pleasing pizza pie that the world has ever seen, or will ever see. All for you. Is that not generous?"

Sarah opened her mouth once again, only to have her thoughts halted as a certain painful memory went bouncing through her head. 'Is that not generous?' Not quite the same words, but so close... Sarah forced her brain back under control.

"I am most exceedingly obliged," she said primly, channeling Pride and Prejudice with her best acting ability. Then she promptly threw herself into Dinah's arms, dancing her around wildly around the room, barely avoiding knocking Tim and Ellie down in the process.

"You lovely, lovely person, don't deny that you planned all this yourself, though I do thank your faithful minions for assisting..." Sarah gave the others a grin and a wave as she twirled, giggling.

"Eeek, Sarah, I realize that you love me madly, but I'm seriously going to throw up if you don't stop."

Sarah set the girl down and patted the top of her curly red head. Dinah straightened her clothes with a sniff.

"There, there now. All better." Sarah proceeded to walk up to Ellie and give her a big hug. She moved down the line of people to Vince and Tim, whom she also hugged, as they grinned and wiggled their eyebrows at Aaron. When the girl came to Benjamin, she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, smiling as she heard a mock-outraged cry from her diminutive friend. Then there was Aaron. She hugged him and kissed him on the tip of his nose.

"Thanks. The blindfold was worth it. Even if it was stinky."

"No problem."

"Hey, hey, enough of this sappy crap," pronounced Benjamin in his pleasantly-rumbling voice. "This is a party, here. Mr. Valenti?" He turned around toward the kitchen door, speaking louder. "You almost ready in there?"

"All done!" called Dinah's father. "A few of you guys come in here; I need some help."

Ellie and Vince disappeared into the back of the restaurant; a few minutes later, they returned in the wake of Jack Valenti. Half-Italian, half-Irish, he had the same ruddy hair as his daughter and the same dark eyes. Mrs. Valenti was a red-head too; the family produced quite a picture when gathered together.

All three people carried large pizzas on trays in their hands; Mr. Valenti's had a ring of lit candles stuck on top.

"For you, bella, a birthday pizza with everything on it. Enjoy." He set the food down on the table in the center of the room. "If you'll excuse me, I'll leave this party to you kids. You guys know where the drinks are, and Dinah can get you ice cream later. Have fun."

The other two placed their burdens on the table next to the Birthday Pizza. Ellie looked from the candles to Sarah, and then around at everyone else.

"Okay, people, get with the program," she scolded. "On my count; one, two, three--"

An exaggerated deep breath from everyone, and then:

"Happy birthday to yoooou...." All six of Sarah's best friends gathered around her and the table, singing loudly. She watched them all in amazement, surprised despite herself to see such concrete proof of their regard for her. Aaron, coltish and habitually-unkempt, sang softly and tunefully; Ellie, almond eyes scrunched up with glee, sang as discordantly as she could manage; flamboyant Dinah sang in a stentorian bellow; Ben towered next to her, a tall, dark shadow singing in a sonorous bass; Vince half-sung, half-mumbled the words behind a curtain of brown hair; Tim, green eyes glittering mischievously, sang alternate words, indicating that Sarah looked like a monkey and smelled like one too.

"Now make a wish, Sarah!"

The girl bent over the candles, brushing her shining mahogany hair back with one slender hand. She gazed at the flames meditatively before closing her eyes in thought. Sarah was not one to take such a chance lightly.

_I wish...  
_  
What did she wish for? A responsible mother, an understanding father, a docile brother, an A in pre-calculus?

_Be careful what you wish for..._

Somehow all those things didn't seem right. What did she really want? A group of accepting friends, an affectionate boyfriend? She had those things already.

_Wishes have power, unlikely as it may seem... _

A successful career in acting? How much of that dream was real, and how much was wistful hoping for her mother's approval? She wasn't sure anymore. Where would life take her, if she discovered that her driving force was a false one?

_I wish... for direction_.

Sarah blew all the candles out in one long, long breath.

----------------------------

A/N: So it begins: my first Labyrinth fanfic. Yes, everyone's favorite Goblin King will make an appearance later on. But not for awhile. So be forewarned. Lots of exposition is ahead. On another note, I think I got all the typos, but if anyone spots anything horrendous, please tell me? Thank you.


	2. Meet the Williams

Chapter Two: Introducing the Williams  
  
The storm clouds had mostly cleared by the time Sarah returned home, just in time to reveal the dimming of day into twilight. Aaron had to race home, so Dinah drove her back. The girl looked around hopefully for a rainbow as they drove; off to the east she could see faint traces of something that, with a bit of imagination, might have been one. Or maybe not. It was hard to tell. Sarah decided without any real conviction that it was one.  
  
"Almost seven o' clock," commented Dinah as they pulled up in front of the old Victorian in which Sarah had lived most of her life. "Is Karen going to pop a blood vessel?"  
  
"Doesn't she always?" asked Sarah wryly. Her tone suggested that maybe she didn't care very much. "I had a great time, Dinnie. Thanks, really. And tell your dad that I love his pizza. If he weren't already married, I'd propose and make you my step-daughter."  
  
"Aaron will be hurt when I tell him how easily you forget him," replied Dinah with a laugh. "Do you have everything gathered up? Don't forget your presents. I'm counting on you to wear that shirt to school tomorrow."  
  
Elllie had given her a brilliant yellow shirt with a picture of a green cartoon dragon on it; it read, in jagged crimson letters, 'Never meddle in the affairs of dragons, for humans are crunchy and taste good with ketchup'. It was cute, but a little bit... loud.  
  
Sarah made a ladylike snort. "I'll consider it. Bye, then."  
  
"Happy birthday, love, and adieu; I will see you on the morrow." Sarah climbed out of the car, laden with her backpack and coat and bags, and began staggered towards her front door. Dinah honked her horn, blew the other girl a flamboyant kiss, and accelerated off down the street. Sarah smothered a grin as she thought, 'And people call me a drama queen'.  
  
The evening was calm and quiet, chilly after the rain, but not uncomfortably cool. The air had that fresh, green smell that always emerged after a good downpour; strangely, Sarah had always associated the smell with the earthworms strewn on the pavement. The air smelled like tree buds and chirping crickets and crushed worms. Frogs peeped somewhere, unseen, in the trees. It was spring, spring, spring; dropping her things on the wooden porch floor, the girl stared off into the distance. Above the rooftops, the tips of the park trees could be seen. Sarah suddenly, desperately, wanted to run off to the park like she used to, and sit beneath the leaves and the moonlight until the fireflies came out.  
  
It was too early for fireflies.  
  
Sometimes life exhausted her.  
  
Sarah retrieved her bags from the ground and opened the front door with a barely audible sigh. Her spirits always came crashing to the ground if she spent a long time in a very good mood; returning to the endless tedium and routine of daily life left her despondent. Once she had retreated to her oak tree whenever this mood hit her, but she had learned to be responsible. Little good had ever come from following her impulses.  
  
Karen, with the strange sixth-sense of mothers, was in the foyer immediately. She had a perpetually harried air around her that Sarah, after years of cohabitation, had learned had little to do with her actual mood. Karen was a moving bundle of nervous energy trapped in the form of a blond, middle-aged woman.  
  
"Sarah! You're finally home, I see. That friend of yours said you'd be back here by six-thirty, but I should have guessed that it was unlikely. We've already eaten, she said you were getting pizza, yes? Your father came home early for your birthday, surely it wouldn't hurt you to try to be on time for once. We have a cake too, I hope you didn't eat too much at your party."  
  
"Hey, Karen," Sarah said, tired but unfazed. It had taken awhile, but she was used to Karen. Her stepmother was, to use an old cliché, all bark and no bite. No harm was meant, usually. "I need to put all my junk in my room, but I'll be down in a minute. You better go back into the kitchen or Dad'll be licking the icing off the cake."  
  
"He better not be," she replied ominously, forehead furrowing into an expression that often frightened dogs and small children, not to mention her husband. "He's supposed to be on a diet." She strode back down the hallway towards the kitchen, as if suspecting to find him in the act. Sarah sighed again and started lumbering up the staircase, gravity pulling at her heavily-laden backpack. Up the stairs, down the dark hallway, through the door and into the quiet sanctuary of her bedroom. There was her old dresser, there the worn canopy bed, there the vanity she had possessed since childhood. The walls, once hung with shelves full of stuffed animals, were empty but for an Escher poster and a few prints she liked: a Degas pastel, Gustav Klimt's "The Kiss", and a Waterhouse painting of the Lady of Shalott. The vanity, once plastered with pictures and newspaper clippings of her actress mother, was now empty but for a few pictures of friends. She hadn't forgotten her mother, but she had been downgraded to a drawer. Reality was reality, and Linda Carlisle (once Williams) did not play a large role in her daughter's life.  
  
The backpack, the windbreaker, and the gift bags were dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Maybe tomorrow, thought Sarah, I'll have the energy to put everything away. Her eyes fell on a strange article lying on her bedspread; a package wrapped clumsily in roughly-tanned hide of some sort. The girl did not care to guess what kind of creature it had come from. Walking over to glance at it closer, she smiled. Her friends had stopped by. Not the ones from school, but some that were far stranger, if that was possible. She decided to leave it for later. Filial duty called.  
  
Sarah left the calm of her room for the ground floor again, which was practically bursting with noisy boisterous life. Karen was running the dishwasher in the kitchen, her father had the television turned up far too loud in order to hear over the appliance, and Toby was making sound effects to go along with whatever game he was playing. It sounded like something, or many somethings, were exploding. Perhaps Power Rangers, or transformers, or his little Matchbox cars. Toby had a lot of toys, most of them with sharp edges that practically impaled one's feet when trod on in the night. No, Sarah was not bitter. Not much, anyway.  
  
"Sarah!" cried the little boy excitedly as she appeared in the family room. He dropped his toy (a transforming Power Ranger car, strangely enough) and half ran, half squirmed his way across the room to give her knees a vehement hug. At four, Toby was a roly-poly preschooler with a head of wild blond curls. Sarah was reminded, as she often was, why she put up with his unnecessarily pointy playthings. Unconditional love was hard to pass up. Long ago, she had promised herself to always, always remember that.  
  
"So, where's my present, you little monster?" she asked playfully. "I've been waiting all day, so it better be good."  
  
"Is that my daughter that I hear?" A voice emerged from a large blue recliner. Robert Williams' face slowly came into view as he bent forward. "I was beginning to think she had left us for good. I was hoping that I would be able to eat her piece of cake."  
  
"Sorry Dad. I've come back, you see. I hope you aren't too disappointed."  
  
"I'll survive. Happy birthday, dear. Did you have a good time? Karen said that there was a surprise party involved."  
  
"Something like that. I had a pretty good idea that it was going to happen, so I don't know how much of a surprise it was."  
  
"You have to open my present, Sarah!" put in Toby firmly, from her feet. "I made it myself. In school today. Miss Liddie let me use the good crayons, 'cause I told her it was for you."  
  
"Before or after dessert?"  
  
"Uh." Toby frowned. It was too much for his mind to compute.  
  
"We're opening presents first," said Karen briskly, coming in from the kitchen. "I want the cake to cool a little bit more. Robert?"  
  
"Here you go, Sarah." Her father reached towards the coffee table to retrieve a square package covered in balloon wrapping paper. She sat down on the sofa and took it from him, surprised by the weight of it in her hands. Toby crawled up next to her as she began to rip off paper. Their were two boxes inside. One, opened , revealed a thick, finely bound book. Her fingers traced the gold letters on the leather cover.  
  
"The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Wow, this is beautiful." Her father beamed at her happily; she smiled back.  
  
"Some of your paperbacks were getting a bit worn, so I thought you could use something nicer."  
  
"This is a big improvement, trust me." Sarah laid the book on her lap and moved on to the second box. Under a layer of tissue paper was... Sarah blinked and lifted it out of its wrappings carefully. It was a dress. But that was putting it mildly. It was a short-skirted affair with a halter neck, done in a painfully-mod print of turquoise and green concentric circles. It was terribly fashionable and would probably look stunning on Sarah's slim, long-legged frame. It was completely not her style.  
  
"I remember when I turned eighteen," said Karen brightly. "I couldn't wait to go clubbing; that was practically all me and my friends thought about for all of senior year. I thought that now you have a boyfriend, you might want to go out dancing some night. Boys like to have fun every now and then."  
  
"Thanks, Karen, it's very pretty," replied Sarah with wide eyes and a beautiful, completely artificial smile that didn't reveal her gritted teeth. 'Now that you have a boyfriend. Boys like to have fun every now and then.' She knew Karen thought that she was being friendly and understanding of her teenage stepdaughter. She knew Karen didn't mean any insult, any implication that Sarah was a lame person for going on her first date at seventeen, any insinuation that she was a boring person.  
  
She knew that Karen didn't know her at all.  
  
It still hurt, though.  
  
"Now me, now me!" yelled Toby. Chubby hands thrust folded white construction paper at her; she took it and unfolded it carefully.  
  
"That's you, and that's me," he explained, pointing at stick figures with the gravity of a modernist explaining the concept behind his work.  
  
The stick-Sarah had a head, full of brown hair, that grew directly out of her long red skirt. Two orange arms seemed to be coming out of the same skirt at knee height. Toby was about half her size, with yellow corkscrews coming out of his head and blue pants and gloves on his orange stick-arms. He might , with a lot of imagination, been dressed up as a Power Ranger. It wasn't unlikely.  
  
Her eyes traveled to the other, unexplained figures in the picture—figures about Toby's height, but done in green instead of orange. Some had on black hats (or were they hair? Ears?) and some were carrying long brown poles of some sort. There were also a few indeterminate birds scattered around.  
  
Sarah's breath caught in her throat.  
  
"What's the rest supposed to be, Toby? Your friends at preschool?" Her voice didn't shake, much to her relief.  
  
"I don't know. It's from a dream." A little surrealist, then. The girl tried to ignore how much they looked like goblins. Toby couldn't remember... could he? Or was this actually just some dream, of Martians or of the denizens of the Emerald City? They had been watching The Wizard of Oz on television the other day.  
  
"It's great," she said after a pause. "You're going to be an artist someday, right? Or a superhero?"  
  
"Yes. Or both. You can be both." Her brother appeared to be perfectly serious. Sarah grinned at him with some relief. Toby had a wild, wild imagination, fed by movies and the T.V. He was perfectly capable of inventing little green creatures without the benefit of any sort of real life experience. And if he didn't remember, then Sarah would have an easier time believing that her nightmare was behind her.  
  
"So. What about cake now?"  
  
If Karen had any redeeming factors, it was that she made good cake. Usually she wasn't much of a domestic source, but her recipe was a family secret, passed for more than four generations (with some modifications for modern conveniences, like electric ovens). She had offered, early on in their relationship, to teach it to Sarah. Fourteen and angry, she had refused. Eighteen-year-old Sarah had some regrets about that as she ate her piece of gooey chocolate cake, but she still had too much pride to ask again. Maybe she wasn't quite comfortable with getting that close to Karen.  
  
The phone rang as she was polishing off the last few bites; Toby was still eating messily in the kitchen under Karen's watchful eye, and her father was in his study, long finished. Sarah paid little attention to the noise; Karen picked it up after the second ring. A brief pause, and then...  
  
"Sarah! Phone!"  
  
The teenager set down her plate on the coffee table and pulled herself to her feet. She was sauntering towards the kitchen when Karen, holding the phone to her chest peeked around the door frame into the family room. Her expression was some cross between bewildered and troubled.  
  
"It's your mother," she said quietly, as if to keep her husband from hearing. Sarah blinked at her, mouth opening involuntarily. Her mother never called. Or hardly ever, anyway.  
  
"Here, I'll go up to my room." She grabbed the cordless out of her stepmother's outstretched hand and started bounding upstairs.  
  
"Mom?"  
  
"Sarah, darling. Did you get my card?" Linda's voice was melodious and effusive, affected but not artificial. Her pleasure to talk to her daughter was real; it just wasn't a pleasure that was necessary to her everyday existence. Linda was remarkably self-sufficient in her self- absorption.  
  
"Yes. It was cute."  
  
"I'm sorry I couldn't come visit you, love, but you know how busy I've been lately. The play's almost finished its run, though."  
  
"Yeah?" The girl reached the door of her room; she twisted the knob hurriedly and closed it behind her before throwing herself down on the bed.  
  
"I understand your spring break is in another three weeks."  
  
Sarah's eyebrows rose involuntarily. "Yes... how did you know?"  
  
"Research, of course. I do have my channels. So, you know, I think I can make this up to you." Her voice was tinged with mirth, practically begging her daughter to ask.  
  
"How so?" It had taken years, but Sarah had finally learned not to count too much on her mother. All said and done, no matter how much she seemed to love her... Linda had walked out on her.  
  
"I was wondering if you might be willing to come spend the week up in New York with me and Jeremy. For a special occasion, you could say. You see, Jeremy and I have just decided to get married, and we thought that if we held it at the end of your break, you could come up and stay with us, you and I can get you a nice dress, and you could attend before you came back. What do you say to that?"  
  
"I..." Sarah was speechless. The ideas of 'Mom and Jeremy are getting married' and 'she wants to spend a week with me' were warring in her head for dominance. The two people had been living together for years, so marriage was not so drastic a step. But Linda had never before expressed a desire to spend so much time with her, not since before she left. The old, familiar pain and hope mingled in Sarah's chest, bringing an ache to her throat, the oft-challenged thought that maybe her mother did love her like a proper mother should.  
  
"Yes!" exclaimed Sarah with enthusiasm, "That would be so great."  
  
Linda laughed her elegant silvery laugh, , made tinny over the phone.  
  
"Why don't you put your father on so I can explain everything to him?"  
  
That stopped Sarah cold. Obviously, and unsurprisingly, Linda didn't consider that perhaps her ex-husband wouldn't take the news of her remarriage too kindly. Sarah didn't know exactly how her dad felt about Linda. He was undeniably happy with Karen, but that didn't mean that he didn't still have feelings for his first love. Sarah's mother had left him; it hadn't been his decision, or even much of a mutual one. He still didn't like talking about her too much.  
  
"Um. I think he's kind of busy right now. What about I tell him and call you tomorrow?"  
  
"Oh, sure, whatever. Just leave a message if you don't catch me. Or talk to Jeremy, he can work out the details. Look, I need to go now, love. Later, then?"  
  
"Bye, Mom."  
  
"Ciao, darling. Happy birthday."  
  
A clink as the telephone was hung up. Sarah pushed the 'off' button on hers, sighing, a moment later. Her mother was unpredictable as ever. She dropped the phone on her bedspread, next to the leather package she had noticed earlier. She picked it up, turning it around in her hands curiously.  
  
"Hmm. I wonder..?"  
  
She untied the twine around it and began to slide the wrappings off. Underneath were some broad, glossy leaves in an unlikely shade of purple. Sarah grinned involuntarily, wondering what kind of plant her friends had plucked them off of. Inside the leaves lay several things. The first one was a egg-shaped stone, about fist sized; it was a pale rose with vibrant green veins, almost like marble. Definitely not a kind of marble found in her world. A closer look revealed tiny crystalline speckles.  
  
Next there was a small knife in a plain leather sheath with two slits; Sarah decided that a belt could be threaded through it. She slid it out carefully, examining the shiny, gray metal blade. The hilt was a dark brown wood, almost black, with red glints; it was carved into the shape of bird, very simple and stylized, but still beautiful.  
  
The third object was a circlet, just the right size to sit atop Sarah's head. The main material in its construction seemed to be feathers; long purple-black tail feathers that shone iridescent in the light, small downy feathers of a deep red, even small wing feathers of cream and black. Tucked among the feathers were little sprigs of dried flowers, strands of violet and forest green ribbon, some interestingly-shaped seed pods, even a few tiny seashells. It was exquisitely delicate, as if wrought by tiny hands.  
  
Sarah sat and marveled over the treasures in her possession. Than she bounded off of her bed to her vanity, where she peered into the mirror intensely. She didn't watch her reflection; instead she peered dreamily past the surface of the glass.  
  
"Hoggle, Ludo, Sir Didymus, I need you." She waited a moment, and then, a voice spoke up from behind her. Perhaps the mirror wasn't necessary, but it helped her to concentrate.  
  
"Well, missy, a happy day to you."  
  
She turned around with an enormous grin on her face, seeing three unlikely figures standing before her: a short, lumpy little gnome of a man, a hulking furball with soft eyes and sharp horns, and a fox dressed rakishly in armor and an eyepatch.  
  
The girl had know them for nearly three years by then; it seemed like so long ago. One dark, stormy night, clichéd as it was, Sarah had done a stupid, horrible thing.... she had wished her baby brother away to the goblins. Or maybe that wasn't fair; after all, who would've expected that the goblins would actually respond? That night Sarah had learned a lot about fairness. She was forced to find her way through a gigantic labyrinth in order to win Toby back. Hoggle, the dwarfish creature, was the first of her friends she had met, followed soon after by furry Ludo and the diminutive Sir Didymus. They had shown her the way through the maze, bringing her to the castle beyond the Goblin city to fight the Goblin King. She had won, but her mind still shied away from the thought of Jareth. Their confrontation hadn't been quite what she had expected.  
  
Sarah had kept in contact with her Labyrinth friends after the ordeal was over; she had the power to call them into her world when she needed them, and sometimes they could cross over on their own. Obviously they had done so that afternoon.  
  
"Thank you so much, you guys!" Sarah beamed at the others with an intensity that seldom lit up her face, eyes shining brightly and mouth open enough to show teeth. "You gave me the best gifts I got all day. You know me better than my own family does. Where did you find everything? Let me guess; the stone from Ludo, the knife from Hoggle, and the circlet from Sir Didymus."  
  
"Indeed, milday, the pleasure was ours," replied Sir Didymus loftily, whiskers quivering with pleasure. "And you guessed rightly."  
  
"Ludo call rock for Sawah," rumbled Ludo happily. "Find special one."  
  
"An' I've been working on my whittling lately," added Hoggle. "Since I... well, I've had more time on my hands, past few months. Got me an apprentice, so I've not so much work gardenin'. Thought you might like this little thing."  
  
"They're both gorgeous, really. And Sir Didymus, did you make the wreath yourself?"  
  
"Not quite so, lady Sarah. I but collected the supplies, and petitioned a dear friend to perform the actual, er, creation. My paws are not so deft as to manage such fine work. I did plan the design according to my knowledge of yourself." He lifted his chin proudly.  
  
"Thank you too, and tell your friend that I liked it."  
  
"How was the birthday, missy?"  
  
Sarah's smile faltered a little before regaining strength.  
  
"My friends from school threw me a really wonderful party, I had lots of fun there. And my stepmom made a really yummy cake for me. But my mom... she actually invited me to come stay with her in a few weeks. It should be lots of fun. I haven't seen her for nearly a year."  
  
"And yet something troubles milady--"  
  
"Sawah sad." Ludo spoke almost simultaneously with the fox, his self- proclaimed brother. Sarah sighed.  
  
"I don't know. I think I'm confused. I don't know what I feel. My mom also said that she was getting married again, that's why she wants me to visit. To see her wedding. I'm surprised; after she left us, I wouldn't think that she would want to get married again."  
  
"Why not?" asked Hoggle curiously.  
  
"I always thought that she felt too tied down by it; she got too restless to stay in one place. I thought it was marriage she disliked, not-- " Sarah didn't finish her sentence. It wasn't something she was willing to say out loud.  
  
"Don't let her trouble you, missy." Hoggle patted the back of her hand gently. "You can worry 'bout it tomorrow if ya want, but today's special. Why don't you go back down and have another piece of that cake? Cake always makes me feel great."  
  
"Tempting," admitted Sarah, smiling weakly. "Maybe I will. I'll be fat, but at least I'll be happy."  
  
"Fat Sawah?" Ludo's voice sounded disbelieving. That won a laugh from the girl; she leaped forward to give him a hug.  
  
"You're a great friend, Ludo. All of you are."  
  
"Aw, don't embarrass us." Hoggle scratched the back of his neck. "Maybe we better be going."  
  
"If you need to."  
  
"Well, always work to be done in the gardens. Damned fairies are multiplying somethin' awful down by the hedge maze. I'll be seeing ya later, Sarah."  
  
"Farewell, Lady Sarah," piped Sir Didymus, with a bow and a flourish of his hat. "I hope that I shall have the pleasure of looking upon your fair face before very long."  
  
"Farewell, my brave knight. Bye, Hoggle. See you later, Ludo,"  
  
"Bye..." Ludo's rumbling voice faded into the distance as her three friends faded out of sight.  
  
Sarah picked the phone up off of her bed and watched it meditatively for a moment. Then she strode out of her room, toward the stairs. 


	3. Dream a Little Dream of Me

Chapter Three: Dream a Little Dream of Me

That night, Sarah had the dream. Or perhaps the Dream, as it should be called, for she had dreamed it many nights since she had ventured through the Labyrinth. It usually visited after she contacted her friends, though this wasn't a reliable catalyst. It always followed the same basic formula; she would find herself in some area of the Goblin Kingdom that she had visited—the Firey Forest, the hedge maze, the Goblin City, outside the gates, or sometimes in the throne room of the castle. The landscape was always very blurry; it was hard to see clearly, and little if any sound reached her. Disjointed, as dreams tend to be. The feeling that she was in the Labyrinth wasn't a production of her senses; she simply _knew_ that she was there. After all, dreams are the creation of one's brain. The eyes play no part.

This time, she was in the stony throne room. There was another figure in the room with her, though it seemed otherwise deserted. She couldn't make out its features. The girl could hear broken fragments of sentences; it was talking to her, or to itself, possibly to someone beyond her line of sight. The sound was very far away, rather like a conversation through a static-filled telephone line.

"Stupid... why don't you... try and try... not even... should never have..." The voice sounded disgusted, with her or itself.

"Idiotic impulse... doesn't understand.... take the damn... girl..."

Dream-Sarah seemed rooted to the spot, though she wasn't aware of any feet that could possibly have taken root. In fact, she appeared to be hovering in mid-air. Did she even have a body? This realization jolted her into self-awareness; Dream-Sarah blinked and, prodded by curiosity, made an effort at a response. This was a first.

"What?" she asked, forcing her mouth to make the proper movement. The sound echoed, echoed, pure and shockingly loud.

"So you decided to make an appearance." The other voice was now clear and much closer than she had anticipated, though its source was only visible as a shining, almost-human blur... maybe.

"This is pure luck, I'm sure; you certainly don't have the wits to come on your own." A shift in the blur.

"Call me, you stupid girl." The bitterness again. The light-blur stretched, grew taller, and began moving toward Sarah's dream-self. Frightened, she moved backwards, except that moving back didn't seem to involved a spatial relationship with the blurred figure at all. Things just moved more and more out of focus.

"Damn it all!" A sharp curse broke forth before the scene vanished entirely. She felt a falling sensation and panicked, stretching her arms out in search of something to hold on to.

Her clawing hands grasped bedsheets. Sarah sat up quickly, gasping through her sudden terror. Her room was quiet and serene as ever, moonlight pouring in from the window. The clock read 3:06 AM on its glowing digital face. The AC whirred gently from the vent in the ceiling.

Sarah has the Dream often. She puts it down as another example of the trauma caused by the Labyrinth. No doubt that is why, of all things, she always dreams of Jareth.

------------------

Karen and Robert reacted to Linda's invitation with surprise and skepticism, minus any of the hopeful delight that tempered Sarah's own cynicism. The girl knew that they had every right to raise their eyebrows at her mother's actions—Linda hadn't spent more than a couple days with Sarah for over a year. Unfortunately, her brain couldn't quite convince her heart of the validity of their actions.

In the weeks between Sarah's birthday and spring break, tension levels were somewhat raised in the Williams household. They were willing to let her go, but they weren't overjoyed with the idea.

Sarah's friends, for the most part, were disappointed that she would be gone for their week off, but still happy that she got to visit her mom. Her inner circle, i.e. Dinah and Ben and Aaron, shared the opinions of Karen and Sarah's dad.

"Really?" was Dinah's reply when Sarah first broke the news. They were eating lunch in the school's courtyard, lounging beneath an ancient weeping willow collectively termed "Veronica" by the school's populace.

"Yep. A whole week. She just called me a few days ago."

"I didn't think you had much contact with your mom," commented Ben thoughtfully. He scrutinized Sarah through narrowed eyes.

"Well, not lately. She's been busy with a play, and school's been kind of crazy this year, so..." Sarah trailed off. She shifted uncomfortably under Dinah's stare.

"What?"

"You don't need to justify your mom's actions, Sarah. They're her fault, not yours." Dinah's normally bouncy voice had flattened to a monotone.

"I'm not trying to justify anything. I'm saying what happened."

"Hey," interjected Aaron uncertainly. Dinah and Sarah turned to look at him. "I guess I'm just a newcomer here, but what's up? So what if Sarah's mom invited her over on vacation? She has as much a right to see her as her dad."

"The problem is, Sarah's mom is a brat and Sarah refuses to admit it. She idolizes her, and blames her mom's shortcomings on herself."

"I do not!" Sarah replied hotly, setting down a french fry she had been fidgeting with for the past few moments. "I know she's not exactly mother-of-the-year material. Not all women are perfect little homemakers, you know. She just has a busy career."

"More like she's just completely selfish. Come on, Sarah, why do you put up with her anymore? If I were you, I'd ask her where she's been on your last two birthdays and tell her to go to hell!"

Sarah began to rise from her seat, face twisted with anger; Aaron, sitting next to her, put a hand on her arm as she started to pick up her tray. Dinah began to get up as well, locking eyes with her friend.

"Hey! Hey, you two." Quiet Benjamin raised his voice to halt them. "Sarah, sit down. Dinah, don't be an asshole."

Everyone gaped at Ben. He frowned back.

"Sarah, we're just worried about you is all. I know that Dinah has an unnecessarily large mouth--" a sharp elbowing from the red-haired girl, "--but no insult is meant. You've beaten yourself up a lot in the past, when your mom did thoughtless things, and we don't want you to get hurt again. Isn't that what you meant to say, Dinah?"

"More or less," she replied sulkily. At this, Sarah sank back onto her bench, sighing. Aaron wrapped his arm around her supportively; she leaned into him.

"But this isn't a thoughtless act; she's inviting me over to stay with her for a week and see her and Jeremy get married. What's so bad about that? Isn't it good?" Sarah asked plaintively.

"You just shouldn't get all your hopes up for a better relationship," stated Dinah. Her voice had gone from accusing to worried. "Probably you won't hear from her for months after this. As usual. And then you'll be brokenhearted again."

"I promise I won't do that," she replied. Her heart twisted as she said it; she knew that she already had been. Getting her hopes up, that is.

"Good. Now let's move onto more important topics. Such as, have you seen your bridesmaid dress yet?"

Sarah laughed out loud, the heavy mood broken. "No, Mom didn't mention anything about it. I don't even know if they're having a big wedding. I kind of doubt it; she and Jeremy seem too chic for that sort of thing. I'm kind of surprised they're getting married at all. It just sounds too domestic. I can see Jeremy as an illicit lover, but he's too pretty for a husband."

"What's this?" Aaron raised his eyebrows in mock alarm. "Don't you dare get a crush on your step-dad. Not only is it creepy, it seriously undermines my position."

"Don't worry," she said with a smile. "I don't care for blonds."

---------------------

A few weeks later found Sarah standing outside a train station in New York City, a large duffel bag slung over one of her shoulders. She had been waiting there for fifteen minutes, and would have been worried if she had not just spotted two familiar faces coming through the crowd.

Sarah definitely took after her mother as far as looks went. Linda Carlisle was of average height and slim, with milky skin that was nearly impervious to tanning. Her hair was the color of dark chocolate and straight; instead of being worn long like Sarah's, it was cut in a stylish bob. But Linda's eyes were brown instead of Sarah's gray, and her features were sharper. She also oozed self-assurance.

Walking next to the elegant Ms. Carlisle was Jeremy Dara, whom Sarah had only met a handful of times. He was a lighter-colored, male version of her mother; with his artfully-disarranged dirty blond hair and blue eyes, he was every bit as polished as Linda. When Sarah had first met him in her early teens, it was all that the girl could do to form a coherent sentence in his presence. Unsurprisingly, after meeting the Goblin King in the Labyrinth, Jeremy wasn't nearly so intimidating.

Linda swooped down on her daughter with a hug, giving her an air kiss on each cheek.

"My, my, this cannot be my little Sarah. You're all grown up, dear. When on earth did this happen?"

"It was pretty gradual," replied Sarah wryly. "I'm not quite sure myself. You're looking good too, Mom. Nice to see you again, Jeremy." She shook hands with the man politely.

"We have a cab waiting a little ways down the street," he said, his light British accent giving the sentence an interesting lilt. "Want me to carry your bag?"

"No, I'm fine. I've carried it this far." They started back down the sidewalk.

"We're going to have a great time this week, Sarah," Linda proclaimed as they walked. They found the cab, stashed the duffel in the trunk, and got in before she continued.

"I thought maybe we could go catch a show, might as well make the most of a visit to the city, and we simply _have_ to go shopping for a dress for you. I don't know what you brought, but I insist on buying you something new."

"What kind of dress?" asked Sarah curiously. "For the wedding?"

"Oh, not exactly. We figured we'd just stop in and have a judge do the thing, nothing big. It's the party that counts."

"We thought that maybe you could be our witness," added Jeremy helpfully. "Since you've just turned eighteen."

"Um. Sure. I'd be happy to." Sarah blinked.

"We're neither of us very religious," explained her mother, "And I'm too old to wear a big poofy dress down the aisle. So to avoid insulting our acquaintance, not to mention my publicist, we decided to throw a big black-tie reception. Jeremy's family's coming, and a few close friends of ours. And you, of course. You'll be the representative from my side."

"Oh, I see." Sarah's mind instantly filled with visions of long gowns and sparkling jewelry. A smile spread across her face. "That sounds like fun."

"I know that look," chuckled Jeremy. "Something else in common with your mum, I guess. Please, try to keep it under a thousand, for my sake. I like eating."

Linda shot her daughter a conspiratorial look; Sarah winked back at her. They both laughed.

Life was good. Until the first big fight, at least. Surprisingly, though, the fight held off for quite awhile. Even when they were living together permanently Sarah and Linda fought like cats and dogs, but on this visit they managed to cohabit amicably for several days. They agreed on going to see "The Phantom of the Opera", and they even agreed on the dress that they eventually bought—Linda's tastes usually tended to run to the wild. The gown in question was floor-length and of dark gray silk. The strapless bodice fell into a slim tiered skirt, and the overall effect was quite elegant. Sarah nearly had an aneurysm when she saw the price tag, but her mother just sniffed. She wasn't exactly hurting for money.

So days passed, and eventually it was the night before the wedding (and the reception that would far overshadow it). Sarah was reading her new Shakespeare when her mom approached up her purposefully.

"Sarah, Jeremy and I are going out to have dinner with an old friend of his this evening. Do you want to come? Honestly, I don't think that you'll enjoy it. I've never met him myself, and I think he and Jeremy are going to spend the entire night reminiscing. I understand they went to drama school together in Britain; he's just flown over for the party." Linda raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response. Sarah cocked her head to the side thoughtfully.

"Actually, I've been lusting over your couch since I've gotten here, so I think this might be the perfect occasion to watch a movie and hog it completely. I brought Ladyhawke, you see."

Her mother's face broke into a smile. "Still your favorite, after all these years?"

"Definitely." Sarah remembered the days when Linda was still her mother, when she had chicken pox and they had stayed home and watched it together. Had that really been the same glamorous creature that stood before her now, with her perfectly coiffed hair and designer dress? Sarah shook her head slightly to drive away the pointless memories.

"So feel free to go without me."

"It's settled then." The older woman seemed relieved, somehow; the girl couldn't quite put her finger on it. "There's leftovers in the fridge, and deli meat if you want a sandwich. You'll find something."

"Sure."

They left a couple of hours later. Sarah luxuriated in the silence of the spacious apartment, savoring the serene atmosphere as she made herself sandwich. She wondered vaguely if she would live in a place like this someday, if she made it as an actress. It was hard picturing it.

Sarah ate while watching the movie, sprawling comfortably over the aforementioned couch. It was a wondrous creation, deep and soft and cushy with butter-smooth leather upholstery. Pillows and a chenille throw made it even better; she practically radiated contentment as she watched the film run its course. The introduction of the hero, the trek across the countryside, the approach of the climax followed by the final fight, and then the lovers reunited. The familiarity of the story made it no less dear to her.

By the time Linda and Jeremy arrived home, hours later, she was sketching idly on the couch.

"Where are you, dear?" called her mother from the front hallway, where Sarah could hear the jingle of keys and the quiet thump of male footsteps. Linda's high heels made a sharper tapping noise. Voices were murmuring; the door closed softly.

"We've brought home a visitor," added Jeremy in his pleasant baritone. Sarah rose from her seat curiously, glad that she had resisted the impulse to put on her pajamas. _Jeremy's friend, _she decided as she walked to the adults. The group met her at the great room's entrance before she had made five steps.

"Sarah, this is Mr. Leighton, a good---"

Sudden silence cut through Jeremy's words more effectively than a gun blast. Perhaps Sarah's sudden gasp stopped him, or the look on the face of his companion. The silence certainly emanated from the two of them, echoing off of each other and becoming all the louder. Sarah felt her breathing stop, followed by her heart and her mind and the very movement of the earth and time. A bubble of pure astonishment enclosed her. She couldn't have moved if she wanted to.

Across the room, equally still, stood a tall thin figure with icy blond hair cut short and a stylish black outfit; not Jeremy, because his hair was darker and he was wearing gray and blue. The figure appeared to be enveloped in the same shock-induced bonds as she was, perhaps hoping, like her, that if they stood still enough the other wouldn't see them.

Just as involuntarily, the silence was broken by a strangled word spoken by both mouths simultaneously.

"You."

Sarah Williams was forced to comprehend, reluctantly, that she was standing in front of the Goblin King for the first time in nearly three years. He was unmistakable. And, if for an unlikely moment she had watched his odd eyes widen and his lean form stiffen, that moment was quickly over.

"What a strange coincidence," he hissed, eyes narrowing arrogantly, frame falling into a gracefully-feline slouch. "Is the little minx the prospective step-daughter, then?" The question was obviously directed toward Jeremy, but the eyes never left Sarah, waiting for a response.

"How... what..." she was still spluttering in disbelief, drawing amusement from her old adversary.

"Such sparkling conversation, Sarah."

"Shut up." Anger replaced disbelief. Sarah always clung to anger in confusing moments. "You bastard."

"I wouldn't speak that way." Anger from him, too, now. "My temper is very short where you are concerned."

"You forget something. You have no power--"

"_Don't you dare._"

Suddenly, without any real idea of how she had gotten there, Sarah was halfway across the room , pressed against a table as if she had rapidly skittered backwards. Jeremy had a restraining hand on Jareth's shoulder. He had also moved a few steps forward.

"What on earth? Jareth, what's come over you? Sarah?" Jeremy's normally cultured voice was strained and bewildered as he glanced between the Goblin King and the girl.

"What is going on here?" Linda Carlisle was confused, a state that made her obstreperous. Her stern tone seemed to say '_Explain. Now_.'

"I apologize," spoke Jareth. He freed himself from the other man's grasp with as much dignity as possible. "As I said, my temper is short around the brat. I meant to cause you no alarm, Ms. Carlisle."

"Have you met before?" asked Jeremy incredulously. His clear blue eyes looked back and forth between the man and the teenager.

"Jeremy," started Sarah in voice a tad to high, "I don't know what's going on. I know this sounds crazy, but he's not a normal person. He's the King of the Goblins!"

"I know that already. What I'm wondering is, how do _you _know?"

"I..." the girl's voice trailed off. "What? Mom?"

"I didn't realize he would bother you so much, honey." Linda's expression changed from stern to apologetic in one of her mercurial temper shifts.

Having had the two adults she trusted disregard her unspoken question, Sarah's gaze landed on Jareth. He was watching her with an unreadable countenance.

"Jeremy and I are old acquaintances," he said shortly. "As I said before, this is a pure coincidence. I did not seek you out tonight."

Jeremy shifted irritably. "Must I ask again?"

"Sarah?" Her nemesis passed the question onto her. She swallowed uneasily. Expectant silence filled the room, and she sighed.

"A few years ago, I... accidentally wished Toby away to the goblins." The girl's voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke, shame clear in her stance. She looked at her feet.

"That's not possible," said Jeremy calmly. "You showed your mother a picture of him a few days ago. He's in preschool now."

"I'm not lying." Sarah's eyes were drawn to Jareth again, who remained impassive. She watched him and said, "I solved the Labyrinth. I got Toby back."

"No human has ever solved the Labyrinth." He continued to disbelieve her.

"Well, want to propose another explanation?" she snapped. That procured a fleeting smile from the king.

"Jareth?"

"She's a very clever brat. Selfish, stubborn, ungrateful, and pig-headed, but clever." His tone was pleasantly venomous.

"A brat?" asked Sarah, stung. "Is that something to call a person who defeated you?"

"You did _not _defeat me," he snarled, taking a threatening step closer to her. "Do not make light of me, girl. I have little patience for you lately." He took in a long breath before turning to face Jeremy and Linda. "I apologize once again for breaking up the peace of your home. I think it is best that I leave now."

"Perhaps so. You are coming tomorrow, though?"

"Of course." And, quickly, looking back at Sarah-- "I _will _speak with you later."

Then he was gone. Just gone.

Sarah snapped.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Do not use that tone in my house, young lady," warned Linda.

"I will take that tone until someone explains why you two were eating dinner with the fucking Goblin King. And do not tell me that he's a friend from drama school."

"Don't defy me, Sarah." Her mother's face was fierce. Sarah's jaw dropped.

"What did you say?" she squeaked. Then she buried her face in her hands. "Oh, my god. Oh, damn. Please," she added, standing straight again, "Why? Just tell me why?"

The adults exchanged glances.

"We should go sit down," said Jeremy gently. "This could take awhile."


	4. Surprise, Surprise

Chapter Four: Surprise, Surprise

"So I guess you know about the Underground," started Jeremy slowly, once they had all sat down. Sarah was on one end of the couch with both of the adults sitting in nearby chairs.

"Yes." Sarah's voice remained guarded.

"Did you ever consider that there might be lands there beyond the Labyrinth?"

"No." Curiosity began to lower the girl's shields. "I guess I never thought about it."

"Ah. Well. There are many other kingdoms, though the Goblin lands are perhaps one of the strangest."

"Very interesting, but what does this have to do with anything?"

"I..." Jeremy sighed and ran a hand through his short blond hair, an agitated gesture that left it comically standing on end. "I was born and raised in one of those other kingdoms."

Sarah stared blankly, her reserves of astonishment nearly worn out for the evening.

"But you're human?" The girl's voice was quiet and unsure, turning a statement into half-a-question. Jeremy shook his head gently; his sympathetic blue eyes certainly seemed very human.

"No, I"m afraid not."

"But you're not like Jareth. You don't have the--" Sarah gestured toward her eyes, referring to the strange markings that the Goblin king possessed. Though, she reflected, they hadn't been there that night. A disguise, no doubt.

Her comment seemed to say, '_if you're not a goblin and you're not Jareth-kind, you must be a human'. _Jeremy chuckled shortly.

"Jareth is something else altogether. I'm not sure how to explain myself and my kind in an understandable way. Your ancestors would have called us the Fair Folk, but that's only part of our identity. It also has unfortunate connotations; we are flesh and blood creatures, just a different type than humans."

The teenage girl thought this over for a moment. She had known for years that there was more to heaven and earth than dreamt of in most peoples' philosophies, so to speak. She knew that fairy-tale creatures weren't tales at all. She knew that pixies bit ferociously. She knew that things weren't always what they seemed; cowards could be brave, monsters could be shy, dreams could be nightmares, and villains could be as irresistible as the most noble of princes.

Now she had just discovered that her mother's boyfriend was... a fairy?

Alright, maybe that was an unfortunate choice of word. Still, the principle of the matter remained.

Sarah considered calm, and panic, and tears, and laughter. She considered anger and decided, once again, that this was useful because it obliterated any ability to ponder the new information's possibilities. Anger was good. She turned to her mother.

"How could you never tell me any of this?" she cried plaintively.

"How could I have known that you had been to the Underground?" Her mom's voice was gentle but firm. "You wouldn't have believed us, otherwise."

"Me?! Me, who watched Ladyhawke at least once a month? Me, who dressed as a unicorn for Halloween four years in a row?"

"Sarah, be reasonable," said Jeremy soothingly.

"Christ, Sarah, you're better off out of it. We were just trying to do what's best for you. Like always." Linda turned testy, clearly annoyed with the conversation.

"What's best for me? Like abandoning me as I entered adolescence was best for me? Thanks a lot for that one!" Sarah knew that she had crossed into dangerous waters, but caught up in her self-pity, she didn't care. Linda's eyes had suddenly gotten very large. Sarah wondered what her mother saw in her face.

"Sarah!" Jeremy exclaimed, standing. "That is _enough._ I can understand that you're upset, but you are completely overreacting. I'm sorry we didn't tell you before. Now we have. Get over it."

She searched for a worthy response and found none. She glanced from her mother's hurt face to Jeremy's thunderous one. Lacking any other course, she did the only thing that came to mind; she turned on her heel and strode to her room, shutting the door firmly behind her. It was a juvenile action and her dignity smarted fiercely. The girl threw herself onto her bed and pressed her face against the calming coolness of the pillows.

-----------------------

Sarah had the Dream once again that night. She wasn't entirely surprised. Not only had she been reminded of the Labyrinth that day, it had been brandished in front of her like a red cape in front of a charging bull. The analogy became confused in her dream-fogged mind, making her picture a matador waving a small Jareth around furiously. Dream-Sarah giggled to herself at the idea.

It was probably her confrontation with the king that made her claw her way through the mists again. She was beginning to be suspicious of these dreams, especially after last time's confusing conversation. The girl decided that if she returned to the throne room and saw pink elephants dance up the walls, she could rest easy. If not... sleeplessness sounded like a good alternative to her suspicions.

Hearing silence around her, she considered the coast to be clear. Slowly she brought her surroundings in to sharper and sharper focus, until her vision was almost perfectly clear. She was afraid of what might happen if she moved any closer. She had emerged into the throne room of the castle beyond the Goblin city. There were no pink elephants in sight. There was a flamboyantly dressed Goblin king watching her silently from atop the throne, though. She jerked backwards when she noticed him there.

This time, he looked as she remembered. His icy blond hair was long and wild, his eyebrows were upswept, and his clothes looked like something out of a Gothic fantasy. He wore a long black frock coat with an ivory shirt and black breeches tucked into tall leather boots. A silver pendant glinted on his chest, matching the silver embroidery scrolling up the arms of his coat. Mr. Poe would no doubt approve.

"I thought you might come tonight," he said in a conversational tone. Sarah sighed as her fears congealed in her mind.

"Is this a dream?" she asked tiredly. He answered with a smile that revealed delicately-pointed teeth.

"Yes, thought the differences between dream and reality are not as pronounced here as they are in the Aboveground. You must have realized that, or else you would have crossed a few more layers. You would have appeared in the Labyrinth completely."

"Why am I here?"

"I don't know. You're the one who came."

Despite her weariness, Sarah felt some of her previous frustration stir.

"Crap. I've been dreaming of the Labyrinth for years now."

"I merely called you after a link between yourself and the Labyrinth had been established. Your answer is, and has been, entirely your own decision."

"After I talk to Hoggle and the rest," she realized aloud. Jareth nodded, platinum hair falling forward over his face.

"You called me."

Another nod.

"Why?"

"Sarah, you're much calmer than you were earlier this evening. I'm surprised."

"Don't dodge my question." She didn't like the way that he purred her name.

"Why not?" Was he taunting her? His face remained still and closed as he watched her. There was no mocking glint in his eye.

"I can leave as easily as I came," she warned, crossing her arms over her chest. This caused him to laugh suddenly, a bitter jagged laugh.

"Tell me, how do you think you were able to come here, Sarah? How can you call your friends to you at your home?"

She was taken aback by this unexpected line of questioning. "I don't know."

"That's what shocks me so. A dreamy, imaginative girl like you, having recently undergone an adventure through a magic-ridden maze, is imbued with strange powers. And you never wondered? You never tried to find you way back, when things became hard at home?"

Sarah was silent.

"I suppose most of my troubles lately stem from your unpredictability. I should not be amazed." He turned his face away from her briefly, only to look back a moment later. His gaze bored into her; he studied her visage with a frightening intensity. Sarah froze like a deer looking into the headlights of an oncoming car.

"What's going on?" she heard herself ask, for what seemed like the millionth time that evening.

"I granted your wish. It was a foolish impulse, I think."

"My wish."

"I offered you your dreams several times. You refused them, as you should have. Maybe that impressed me."

"I still don't follow you."

"I gave you magic," he enunciated carefully.

"You what?" she stuttered unbelievingly.

"I threw the crystal at you," said Jareth, closing his eyes as if pained. "After you spoke the last words. It shattered into dust around you."

"...yes."

"You had established that I could do nothing to you without your consent. Or, rather, that my power could not affect you. That is a better interpretation. If you hadn't, I could have forced you to accept it. As it was, the spell remained unabsorbed until you accepted it on your own." His eyes opened again. "Understand now?"

"Maybe," she responded faintly. She sank to the ground, putting her arms around her knees.

"What if I don't want this magic?"

"You already have it. Maybe you would have been able to summon a few petty creatures from the Labyrinth without it, but dreamwalking is far more difficult. You are utilizing it now. I'm afraid that you may have a hard time _not _using it in the future." He stood up and walked down the stairs of the dais. It was a slow, smug, sauntering walk meant to draw the eyes.

"Of course, I can teach you to control it." His old smirk reappeared. Sarah frowned.

"I really don't want to be connected to you like that. Or at all, to tell the truth."

The smirk faded as if had never been there, stony coldness replacing it.

"Too late for that, Sarah dear. It was you who bound us so inextricably together in the first place. First you walked the Labyrinth to its center, which, like any ritual, brings a certain amount of power with it. Then you destroyed my Escher room, which sent more than a little magical debris flying up into the air. Then you had the nerve to speak those words. They have a ritual power all on their own. Do you remember what you said?

"I said a lot of things. Nothing that would have tied us together."

"Try this: 'My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great'."

Sarah winced at the harshness she heard. "Maybe that."

"I am unique in the Underground. The rest of my kind have long since perished, leaving their land to be ruled by lesser races. You announced yourself to be my equal. I'm still not sure what you have wrought."

She looked up at him. By all rights, he should have been towering over her. However, they weren't quite on the same planes. He couldn't reach her. The resulting view was somewhat disorienting, so she stood up again.

"Then why give me magic?"

"It is of no importance any more. Will you accept my training?"

"I'd rather not."

"Someday soon you may find your talent more than you can handle, and you will have to ask my assistance."

"I'll take my chances. I'm still not sure whether I should trust you or not. This could all be a plot of some kind," she added as an afterthought. This seemed to amuse Jareth.

"A plot? My, you're a suspicious child. I suppose you'll have to take your chances."

Sarah sent a withering glare in his direction before standing up and turning to leave.

"Wait a moment." The serious tone in his voice stopped her, briefly.

"What now?"

"You will be seeing me again tomorrow, as well as much of Jeremy's family. They will be using a glamour to keep the humans from asking any unfortunate questions."

The girl looked back at him reluctantly.

"I very much doubt that it will work on you. It would be best, I think, that you do not reveal this to them. Or show that we are previously acquainted. The idea of a powerful human may not be entirely welcome. Not all the inhabitants of the Underground are as friendly as your stepfather-to-be."

"I know," she said dryly. She turned once again and allowed herself to drift through the mists back to her bed.

-----------------------

The next morning, Sarah woke up stiff, grumpy, and very much creased, as she had fallen asleep in her clothing the night before. She rose shakily and hobbled into the bathroom. After twenty minutes under the hot shower spray, she began to feel less like a zombie and more like a living person again. Apparently her Labyrinth dreams didn't count as real sleep.

So. Magic. What on earth was she supposed to do with magic? Assuming that Jareth wasn't lying, for some unknowable Jareth-y reason.

After finding fresh clothes, the girl stalked out into the great room; she saw Jeremy sitting at the dining table on the kitchen side of the room. He was drinking coffee and reading the paper, looking perfect and pristine in gray slacks and a white shirt. Linda was nowhere to be seen. Sarah realized that it was almost eleven in the morning, which made her feel grubbier and grumpier.

He spotted Sarah almost immediately, as if he had been lying in wait for her.

"Your mother ran out to take care of a few last minute details," he said mildly. "I thought it might help if we could talk alone."

"Mmphgh," commented Sarah. She took a banana out of the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter and stared at it dubiously.

"I love Linda dearly, but I don't think she can really understand all this. She's never been to the Underground."

Meeting Jeremy's steady, inoffensive gaze, she sat down hesitantly.

"I didn't mean to be a creep," she muttered in a stiff tone. "This was kind of a shock."

"It's alright. Jareth tends to create a strong reaction wherever he goes." Jeremy smiled wryly. "I didn't expect you to have any deep dark secrets either. It's rather important that you solved the Labyrinth, you know. Humans weren't meant to succeed in it. Few of my kind make it through, even with the assistance of magical talent. You are quite exceptional."

"Leaving Toby there wasn't an option."

"Of course. And I'm sure Jareth didn't make it easy for you. What did he... no, that's a rather personal question. Anyway, I'm sure there's plenty of ill will on both sides."

"How did you meet him? You didn't wish someone away, did you?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It's actually pretty embarrassing. I come from a diplomatic family, you see. The youngest of three children. That meant that we could afford extensive magical training. If we were to follow in our parents' footsteps, it was required."

"Ah." Sarah felt the urge to laugh, the conversation was becoming so surreal. She continued to listen.

"Unfortunately, I turned out to have very little aptitude at all. When I was practicing teleportation with my tutor, inside of appearing in the next room, I transported myself to the Goblin Kingdom. A freak accident."

"Oh my god," breathed Sarah with a sympathetic gasp. "How old were you?"

"Er. About the equivalent of an eleven-year-old human, I think. I was absolutely terrified. I was in the courtyard in front of the castle and there were goblins everywhere, so I knew where I was."

"What happened?"

"Jareth came and found me pretty quickly. I think I caused quite a ruckus. He must have seen how scared I was, because he took me into the castle and sat me down on the stairs in the throne room, and summoned me up something good to eat. Once I had calmed down, I explained to him what had happened to me."

"He fed you?" That seemed out-of-character. She would have expected him to sneer at Jeremy, not comfort him. Maybe Jareth was only cruel to humans.

"Yes. He can be a perfectly charming person when he puts his mind to it. So, eventually, he delivered me home himself. Gave my parents quite a scare, I can tell you. Jareth is our version of the bogeyman, though he ventures into the outer kingdoms quite often. If my parents had seen him at a court function, they would have bowed and scraped respectfully. But when he appeared in their home with me in tow, they were petrified."

"But you two seem to be friends now."

"Yes. I grew up, over the years. Having seen a more personable side of him when I was a child, he didn't make me as nervous as he does others. I guess that was refreshing to him. So we're friends."

"Friends." Sarah grinned disbelievingly. "Okay. How did you end up as in actor in New York City?"

"Mmm. I was a miserable excuse for a magician, so I changed my name from Jeremiel to Jeremy and left to make my fortune in the Aboveground. It happens fairly often. I did have a talent for acting, as it turned out, and here I am. After a few years, I met your mum and fell in love. A year ago I told her about my origins."

"That must have taken some convincing."

"I had to call in a few favors, but she believed me eventually."

"Wow." Sarah took a bite of her banana and chewed meditatively.

"Are we okay now? Truce?"

"I guess," she replied. "I made a few friends in the Labyrinth. I know that not everyone down there is an asshole like Jareth."

"You do realize that you're going to have to spend a few hours in his company tonight, don't you?"

"Please don't remind me."

"You two can't be at each others' throats the entire time."

"I know, I know. I'll try to avoid him as much as possible. When impossible, I'll pretend he's just your good friend Mr. Leighton from drama school."

"Good idea. And..." Jeremy hesitated. "My family will see you as my daughter now, whatever the formalities may be Aboveground. My mother has been nagging at me for grandchildren for years, so don't be alarmed if you're suddenly smothered with attention."

"Will my cheeks be pinched?" she asked with a wince. Jeremy chuckled.

"Probably not. I hope Mother has more class than that."

Sarah tried to imagine a family of... whatever-they-were, Fair Folk, Undergrounders, occupying a hotel ballroom with the cream of New York's theater scene. Would it be total chaos, or would they blend in as easy as Jeremy? Or would they drug everyone to the gills with magic, like Jareth said? Jareth. Ugh. She was going to stay far, _far_ away from him. She had one experience with balls and the Goblin King cataloged in her mind and she did _not_ want to re-live it. If there was any memory from her adventure in the Labyrinth that made her cringe with pain and embarrassment, it was the memory of her time spent lost in that infernal dream.

What a pity. She had been looking forward to this party.

-----------------------

A/N: I would just like to say thank you to all my reviewers! I really appreciate the comments. They help me learn as a writer. I've noticed this method in other stories, so I am going to unscrupulously steal it.

**Dreaming One**: I actually kind of agree about the beginning, but I wanted some way to give a picture of Sarah's normal life. Thank you also for confirming a theory of mine: 'Labyrinth' attracts a certain type of girl to it. - I'll try to speed things along later in the story.

**Valo**: Aww. Thank you.

**AlisonHarvey**: Sorry about the first chapter, I was afraid that might happen, but I'm glad the story eventually picked up. I was trying to set the stage before Sarah's life got weird... and yes, her friends will play a larger role later. Anyways, thank you, and I hope the next few chapters don't disappoint. (I love your stories madly, so this meant a lot to me. ;;)

**Awhina**: Thanks, I'll try to.

**Lexi**:Thank you! I hope to keep the chapters shooting out fairly rapidly. I feel inspired lately. ;-)

**Archangel pixxistixx4me**: Sorry about the cliffhanger. Hopefully this chapter helped. I'm happy you liked the characterization. It seems like the hardest part so far.


	5. Let's Dance

Chapter Five: Let's Dance

The day crept by, the inexorable march of time drawing Sarah closer and closer to the night's main event. Linda arrived home not long after the end of Jeremy and Sarah's conversation; the two adults immediately took to a discussion of the logistics of their party. The girl wandered off, looking for something else to occupy her. She was unsuccessful. All in all, she decided, the tension was killing her.

Accordingly, their trip to city hall that afternoon was a much anticipated occurrence. Or, rather, more anticipated than it was already; after all, it wasn't every day that your mother got married. To someone you actually liked. Sarah was surprised to discover that she was okay with her mom's remarriage. Maybe Sarah had grown up since Robert married Karen... or maybe Jeremy was just infinitely cooler than Karen.

Probably the latter choice.

All in all, the act itself was pretty anticlimactic. The three of them traveled down to the appropriate place, they obtained the appropriate forms, got the appropriate signatures, said the appropriate things, and voila, Linda and Jeremy were man and wife. Sarah grinned and clapped as they walked out of the building, humming the wedding march until Linda swatted her. A good-natured swat, of course.

So, next stop, party. They didn't go home to dress; instead, Linda's personal assistant met them at the hotel where the reception was going to be held. Pamela had the clothes, the jewelry, the make-up, everything they would need to get ready. Including a suite of rooms with _two_ bathrooms. Sarah marveled at the luxury of renting a nice hotel suite merely to get dressed in. Jeremy called her a country bumpkin, Linda scoffed. They both smiled.

In this manner, the occasion finally arrived. There would be no more stalling, there was no turning back. Sarah Williams was dressed in a silk evening gown and heels about two inches too high. She was about the meet her stepfather's supernatural family, in a room filled to the brim with many strangers and one cryptic Goblin King. She was as ready as she would ever be.

They descended to the ballroom's doors, where the coordinator met them. She took the two adults aside, looked at Sarah, and bit her lip.

"Why don't you slip in ahead of them, honey," she cooed in a gooey voice. "The only other option would be for you to trail after them after they're announced, and that would be awkward. It could ruin the effect, you know."

"Okay," the girl replied, a tinge of disbelief her in voice. "Sure. Here I go."

As directed, she slipped around the corner, past the placard declaring the ballroom off-limits but to invitees, and through the partially-curtained door. A immense space was before her, loud with the murmuring of many people talking quietly. In one corner, round tables were set up; in another, a jazz band played unobtrusively. Sarah paused a moment to take in the sight. Then she entered and strode a few paces along the wall. As the coordinator had hoped, no one noticed her. She was forced to chuckle to herself as she turned to face the door.

A voice spoke into the microphone across the room; the band and the voices fell silent.

"Ladies and gentlemen," declared a woman in blue—that would be Julie, Sarah realized, her mother's agent. "I now have the distinct pleasure to introduce tonight's guests-of-honor: the newlyweds, Mr. Jeremy Dara and Mrs. Linda Carlisle-Dara!"

Applause filled the ballroom, accompanied by a few whistles and one or two unabashed catcalls. Jeremy and Linda were standing hand-in-hand in front of the doorway, Linda's pretty blush matching the deep red of her dress. Sarah smiled ruefully at them and was caught off-guard when a waiter handed her a slender glass of champagne. She took it and looked at it skeptically. All the others were receiving them as well.

"And might I propose the first of many toasts this evening," continued Julie. She raised her own glass to the couple. "To a long, happy, loving marriage."

"Hear, hear," murmured the crowd _en masse_. Sarah touched the rim of the glass to her lips and took a tentative, self-conscious sip. Her father never let her have champagne at home. It didn't taste as bad as she had expected. She cast her eyes into the crowd and found Jareth almost immediately, reassuringly standing on the other side of the room. He raised his glass slightly, towards her, and took a drink. She looked away quickly. He was back into Mr. Leighton mode: his pale hair had become short and neat, his eyebrows were normal, and his tuxedo was definitely more conservative than his usual dress. She couldn't decide which Jareth was more disturbing.

Fixing her attention on her mother and new stepfather again, Sarah found them enveloped in a mass of well-wishers, shaking hands and air-kissing cheeks as flashbulbs went off around them. They look busy and happy and totally preoccupied... and Sarah was forgotten. The throng of strangers suddenly seemed much more ominous.

Well, wasn't this typical.

The girl leaned against the wall and watched them interact with their guests. She took a ferocious sip of her champagne, followed by another. Maybe it was unfair of her to expect attention on such an important day for them. But was it too much to ask to be introduced to at least one of the trillions of people there?

Deep in reverie, she didn't see the delegation of young people sweep across the marble floor, towards her, until they spoke.

"Judging from your looks, I'd say that you're Sarah."

Sarah jumped a few centimeters in the air and looked around. Four people stood before her, roughly her own age. There was a boy and a girl with black hair, and a boy and a girl with pale red hair. There was no way she could ever mistake them for human. They were too... intense. Colors seemed too bright on them, or too clear. It was nothing she could quite put her finger on, some sort of _je ne sais quoi _that was by definition impossible to define. So, logically, Sarah presumed that they must be Jeremy's family.

It was a girl who had spoken, one of the redheads, with an accent that certainly sounded British. Was that for verisimilitude, or did the Fair Folk just naturally sound that way? It was to her that Sarah directed her reply.

"I am. And judging from _your_ looks, I'd say that you guys are my new step-cousins."

"Quite right," said the red-haired youth. "I'm Gabriel Arian, the eldest of us. This is my sister, Moira. The other two are Owain and Jessamyn Dara."

"Pleased to meet you all," said Sarah dutifully she shook the hands of each in turn, noticing the hesitancy with which they complied. When she touched Jessamyn's hand, she received a shock that made the hair on her arm stand up; the other girl didn't seem to notice. She wondered if it had anything to do with the glamour that a certain someone had told her about.

"Jess and I have another sibling, named Callista," mentioned Owain.

"Who knows where she's gotten to," added Jessamyn in a frosty voice. "Probably off looking for something to eat."

Moira snickered at this pronouncement; Gabriel rolled his eyes with the tolerant attitude of an older brother.

"There are five of you, then?" asked Sarah, searching for conversation topics. "I'm sorry, Jeremy didn't tell me much about his family."

"Five nieces and nephews, yes. Our parents and grandparents have come as well; Grandmother asked that we find you and bring you to her."

'Bring you to her' sounded unnecessarily ominous. Sarah swallowed.

"Sure." What else was there to say? "I'll just follow you, then."

"Very well," said Gabriel. "Come along." She sighed as the cousins turned and entered the crowd, with her trailing behind. Jeremy's family was ever-so-slightly giving her the creeps. Maybe they just weren't used to talking to humans. Or something. It had to be awkward, having your uncle marry a being of a different, er, species. A possibly inferior species. Maybe they would warm up later.

They followed a circuitous path through the other guests, dodging clumps of people and the occasional waiter. She marveled at the faces that flashed past as they walked: semi-famous actors and artsy directors, drama critics and culture-conscious socialites. They brushed past one moving group in close conversation; Moira narrowly avoided a collision with woman in Versace and Sarah riffled the cloth of a man's jacket as she dodged them. She experienced a minor heart attack when the man turned and she found Jareth's eyes on her... and did he wink? But they were quickly passed and gone.

The cousins halted when they arrived at a peculiarly empty ring of space against one wall. Six people stood at the center and some aura was repelling the other party-goers—they didn't seem to consciously avoid it, they simply walked around. Odd.

"Grandmother," called Jessamyn brightly. Sarah steeled herself.

Her step-grandmother, though, was not quite what she expected.

"My, how charming," breathed a sparrow of a woman as she broke away from the group and approached; her shoulders and collarbone were as delicate as a bird's where they emerged from her gown, and pale, gray-streaked brown hair was swept away from her heart-shaped face. Her pale blue eyes, Jeremy's eyes, looked Sarah up and down. "What a beautiful girl. Dear child, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I am Angharad Dara, but I hope that you will call me grandmother as the rest of my children's children do."

"No problem." Sarah's voice was weak. She had expected an imperious dowager, not the wraith-like creature before her. "I'd be happy to."

"Excellent. If only my son had been married properly, though, you could have been given a decent introduction to the family. As it is, there's only myself, my husband, my children, and my grandchildren. Why, Jeremy's aunts and uncles and cousins weren't even invited! A disgrace, I say. Here, this—Cal, come here—this is my husband, Callistus."

A man stepped up, slightly on the portly side with blond hair and a beard going to gray. He was considerably taller than his wife.

"Enchanted," he said tersely. "What are you called again, my girl?"

"Sarah," replied Sarah.

"Pretty name, pretty lass. Can see you resemble the mother." He nodded slightly and moved away. Angharad rolled her eyes toward the heavens. The familiar gesture set Sarah more at ease.

"Now, this is Jeremy's brother Tristam and his wife Gwyneth." Tristam was built like his father and colored like his mother. Gwyneth was quite striking, with luminous black hair and warm brown eyes. Owain and Jessamyn were obviously her children. Sarah, without thinking, curtsied slightly. It was an automatic, instinctive reaction; she immediately flushed, but Tristam and Gwyneth seemed to approve.

"Why, she's so nice for a hum—an American girl," pronounced Gwyneth with wide eyes. It was either a truly naïve remark or she was being artfully rude. "We must be careful, or Owain will take a fancy to her." She tittered childishly; trying not to grimace, Sarah decided that she wasn't being facetious.

"We're all family now, Gwyneth," said Angharad in an arid tone. "You can remind your young hooligan of that if you like." The woman steered Sarah away from the pair with a grimace, Sarah sensing tension between the mother and daughter-in-law. They stopped at the last two people in the group: a brown-haired woman and a redheaded man, both tall and slim as models. Gabriel and Moira's parents, then.

"And finally, my daughter Rhoslyn and her husband Maddox. Rhoslyn, Maddox, this is Linda's daughter Sarah."

"How do you do, Sarah?" Rhoslyn's manner was brisk and her gaze almost ferociously assertive. It was intimidating, but somehow preferable to Gwyneth's simpering.

"Very good, thank you for asking. It's wonderful to meet Jeremy's family at last." As a gripping line of conversation, it lacked something, but it was an excellent expression for Sarah to fall back on when she had no idea what to say.

"And vice-versa, I assure you," uttered Maddox quietly. He took a languid sip from the champagne he was nursing. "Jeremy left us quite in the dark, as to what he was marrying into."

"Marrying into?" Sarah repeated, affronted. "He's marrying my mother. We marry people in America, not families. I don't know how things go in... Britain."

The pause before 'Britain' was marked. Sometimes anger led Sarah to act rashly. Too rashly.

The three adults arrayed around Sarah were watching her closely with suddenly impenetrable eyes. Did she see Rhoslyn make a quick gesture with one hand? Maddox muttered something under his breath, and Angharad laid a gentle hand on her arm. Her skin tingled where the woman touched her, and went numb. Sarah jerked back, winced, and remembered the Goblin King's advice the night before. They'd use a spell if they thought she'd blown their cover. It had no effect, beyond the sensation. Sarah wondered, nervously, if that meant he was telling the truth about her having magic of her own.

"Sorry," she said lamely. "You startled me. I think I'm a bit jumpy tonight, I've never been good around large groups of strangers."

"That's quite alright, my dear." Jeremy's mother did not try to touch her again. "Look, I see my son coming towards us now."

There was Jeremy indeed, striding through the crowd purposefully, jaw clenched tight as if he were grinding his teeth. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

"Hello Mother, Rhoslyn, Maddox." He bent and kissed his mother on one pale pink cheek. "We're trying to herd everyone towards their tables now, so we can begin dinner. Name cards have been placed at each table setting, but Mother, and Father, are seated with Linda and me." He placed a hand lightly on Sarah's shoulder. "You don't mind if I borrow Sarah for a moment, do you?"

"Run along, it's alright," replied the older woman. The sister and brother-in-law nodded politely and sauntered away. Jeremy began striding back the way he came, pushing Sarah along in front of him.

"Jeremy, stop it," she snapped. "I _hate _being pushed. What are you all riled up about?"

"You're sitting with your mum and me too. Linda's agent will be there, as well as my parents."

"So? What's the matter?"

"Just, hell, this is the way it's been laid out since last week, it can't be helped. Just keep on smiling, Sarah. You don't have to talk to him. Lord knows that Julie can dominate the conversation better than any other ten people I know.

Sarah stopped in her tracks.

"Ho, no. You aren't saying what I think you're saying,"

"I am. I'm completely serious. Fine, fine, don't smile. But please don't make a scene, Sarah. Please. I made him promise not to bother you."

"This is a fucking _nightmare_," she growled under her breath.

"What?"

"Okay. Sure. Peachy keen. I'm going. I am not sitting next to him."

"No, I'm not that cruel. And thanks."

Sarah allowed Jeremy to lead her back to their table, a round affair with a white tablecloth and a voluminous centerpiece. There sat her mother already, with an empty chair on both sides. Sarah sat on her right, Jeremy on her left. The two Daras sat next to their son, and Julie the agent sat next to Sarah. Between Callistus and Julie sat... Jareth. Sarah damned him mentally.

Dinner began.

Item One: Introductions, once again. Sarah was so tired of introductions that she could vomit.

"I don't think that all of you have met," began Linda warmly as the waiters served the first course. "This is Julie Nordquist, my agent and very good friend. Julie, these are Cal and Angie Dara, Jeremy's parents, and Jareth Leighton, an old friend of his. And my daughter Sarah, of course."

They all made the appropriate noises. Sarah picked at her salad.

Item Two: The dreaded smalltalk.

Sarah kept her face down and ate mechanically through this portion of the proceedings, only half listening to the conversing adults. She avoided looking at Jareth at all costs. The first time she heard his smooth voice, she had to make an effort not to flinch. After awhile she got used to it. She could have quite happily spent the entire meal in silence, had it not been for the combined efforts of her mother and stepfather.

"Sarah," started Linda during a lull, "Doesn't your school do a spring play every year?"

"Yes." Sarah looked up hesitantly and was dismayed to find all eyes on her.

"What is it this year?"

"We're doing _My Fair Lady_."

"A musical," said Jeremy. "Are you trying out?"

"Maybe," she replied, allowing herself to be drawn in. "I love the play, but I can't sing. If we were doing _Pygmalion _instead... but maybe I'll try for a bit part."

"You are an actress as well, then?" asked Julie, smiling. Sarah shrugged.

"I like to act, but it seems presumptuous to call myself an _actress_. I'm not really that good."

"Don't say that," began a male voice. "You're quite good, when you can remember your lines."

It wasn't Jeremy or his father speaking. Sarah forced her neck to turn until the culprit came into view. She stared at Jareth dumbly. Was that a jab hidden in those words?

"As for singing," he continued, "That can be learned."

"Maybe I don't want to learn," she pushed through gritted teeth. He raised an eyebrow and his eyes sparkled merrily at her discomfort. She quelled the urge to launch a dinner roll at his smirk.

"Sarah," said Jeremy very quickly, "Did you meet all of my nieces and nephews? They're all about your age, you know."

"All but one, I think." The girl looked grateful as she turned her face toward her step-father. "Ca... I think it was Callista." She took a sip of water.

"My little sweetheart," sighed Angharad. "She was my youngest grandchild, until you. Sarah dear, you _must_ come to visit me sometime. You're part of the family now, so it would only be proper. We're very well connected. I'm sure that there would be plenty of young men willing to make marriage offers, even though you are... American."

Sarah just barely kept herself from spewing out all the water in her mouth.

"Mrs. Dara, er, Grandmother, I don't think I'm quite old enough to think about that yet," she replied in a shocked voice.

"Nonsense, it's never to early for a contract. Callistus, do you think..." Angharad continued to talk about prospective suitors. Jeremy look embarrassed; Linda's mouth had formed a little 'o' of surprise and her eyes had gone wide. Julie's face was frighteningly blank, as if every thought in her head had suddenly been turned off. She certainly didn't look surprised at the topic, when she should have been. Sarah shivered, thinking of magic. And Jareth... Sarah looked over and saw him staring at her. Just staring. She shuddered again, glared, and saw the candle flame in the middle of the table turn blue and leap into the air several inches.

With the others engrossed in the conversation, only the girl and the Goblin King noticed. He raised his eyebrows pointedly. _Magic_, she thought.

And then, _I think that I did that._

"Will you excuse me?" asked Sarah tightly. "I'll be right back." She rose, making a conscious effort not to trip in her tall shoes, and walked stiffly away before anyone could reply. She tried to tell herself that she wasn't running away. It was a lie.

She fled across the room and through the draped entrance, finding herself in a deserted hallway. Sounds of merriment poured out of the ballroom, but the space was otherwise quiet. Refreshing. Sarah found a discreetly-placed sign marked 'Ladies' and went through the door. The richly-decorated bathroom was even quieter. The girl sat down on the brocade couch and breathed deeply, trying to organize her thoughts.

Alright. She'd known for a long time that the Underground existed. _But it never intruded on _my_ life before. I was safe once I got home._ She was okay with Jeremy being Something-Else. Jeremy was a good guy and she rarely saw him. It was kind of a relief to finally tell someone about the Labyrinth, so that wasn't so bad either. The reappearance of the Goblin King was a little—_a lot— _more disturbing. Even worse, he was trying to convince her that she had some sort of mystical bond to his kingdom. And now, worst yet, her step-grandmother wanted to marry her off to some random guy from the Underground. But she was safe; the Fair Folk couldn't spirit her away and neither could Jareth, not without her consent.

In short, Sarah felt like she had entered_ The Twilight Zone_. Doo da doo doo, doo da doo doo. All she needed was a few flesh-eating aliens. _See, _she thought to herself. _It's not so bad. No one's tried to eat me yet._ Somehow, that wasn't very comforting.

Once she felt a little bit more grounded, Sarah stood up, smoothed her gray silk skirts, and started back towards the ballroom. A voice halted before she had gone a few steps from the restroom door.

"Trying to escape the party?" asked an amused voice. Sarah turned and saw the darker of Jeremy's two nephews. She tried to remember his name—_Owain. _That was it. He was tall and rangy, as though he hadn't quite grown into his height yet. Typical adolescent, except for the fine features, the grace, and the alabaster skin. Sarah would bet her life that he knew how good he looked.

"Looks like you are too," she replied cautiously. He shrugged.

"It's pretty boring. Nothing worse than going to your parents' parties. Too many old people." He grinned suddenly, cocking his head to one side and looking her up and down with intensely blue eyes. "Want to go find someplace more interesting?"

"I don't know," said Sarah, somewhat taken aback. "I can't just leave. And where would I go in an evening gown?"

"You could take off the evening gown. I could help you with that."

Sarah frowned. "You could go to Hell," she suggested. He laughed loudly, pushing away from the wall he leaned against and taking a step towards her.

"Calm down. I'm sure you look pretty enough under there."

"Don't make me repeat myself."

"And they say that human girls are easy. Damn, wasn't supposed to say that." His voice was sardonic; he obviously didn't care. "Easily fixed, I suppose." He waved a hand toward her languidly; she felt the same weird tingling that she had before, but nothing else. She narrowed her eyes angrily, hands moving to rest on her hips.

"I am _tired_ of this," she spat. "Leave me the fuck alone, fairy-boy. I'm not having a good night."

Perhaps that was unwise, but it was almost worth it to see the look on his face. His pretty features morphed into an expression of pure fury that wasn't quite so attractive. The girl recalled, belatedly, that the Fair Folk, or whatever they were, did _not _like to be called fairies. No, not wise at all, but it felt wonderful to lash out after containing her turmoil for so long.

"Oops." Her voice dripped sarcasm. "Wasn't supposed to say that, was I? Should I have fallen down at the great lord's feet?"

He snarled something unintelligible and started towards her; Sarah skittered backwards in something close to alarm. She didn't know what would have happened if someone else hadn't intervened at that moment.

"My lord Owain." A man's clear, cold voice cut through the rage in the hallway, stopping both Sarah and the young man short. "What you do in your own home is your own affair. I would ask that you not harass the guests here."

She knew it was Jareth, even before he moved into view. She recognized his tone of voice; it had been directed at her more than once.

"She's just a human bitch," replied Owain crossly, looking away. "She wouldn't even remember."

"She is your cousin now." His voice turned absolutely frigid; he bit off every word carefully. "You will leave her alone. Even if she were not your cousin, you would leave her alone. Is that clear, little one?"

"...yes, sir," he muttered inaudibly.

"Then I think you should be getting back to your parents. Run along, now."

Owain went. He didn't run, but he walked a bit more quickly than natural. Jareth turned to Sarah.

"All right?"

"I don't need you to save me," she said grudgingly. He made a derisive noise.

"Yes, you do. Since you didn't see fit to follow my advice."

"What advice was that?"

"To be careful around them. I heard the end of your conversation."

"I've had a long night. I'm not just going to stand here while he makes passes at me."

"You should have walked back to the table, Sarah. Now he knows that, firstly, you are impervious to glamour, and secondly that you know he's not human." His expression was reproving.

"I don't think it actually registered. Maybe he thinks I just called him gay. Anyways, Grandma Angharad wants me to come visit her. That means she doesn't mind the truth coming out. She wants me to _marry_ one of her people."

Jareth smirked at the venom in her speech. "I wouldn't recommend it. The Fair Folk are an arrogant race. You'd be better off looking elsewhere."

Sarah laughed disbelievingly. "Now that's rich, coming from you. If you'll excuse me, I'm going back to finish my dinner. With any luck at all, I'll go the rest of the night without anyone else hitting on me."

"I wouldn't count on it," he said quietly. "You look absolutely delicious tonight." She turned back, gaping, to see a mocking smile on his face. She couldn't tell if he was serious or just trying to get on her nerves.

"You can go to Hell too," she said tightly. Then she strode back into the ballroom. By the time she returned to the table, Jeremy and Linda had gotten Angharad under control, and the topic had changed to something innocuous. When Jareth joined them a few minutes later, she didn't even turn to glance at him. The rest of the night passed uneventfully.

The next morning, Sarah was on the train back home.

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A/N: Think Jareth isn't quite done with Sarah? Think her powers might start acting up, as said? Think her new family connections are going to stir her life up? Hmmm, quite possible.... so tune in for the next episode of _Into the Rose Garden_!!! cue melodramatic music. Comments, criticisms, and missed typos? Please tell me! Feedback is a gorgeous thing.


	6. You Cannot Quit Me So Quickly

Chapter Six: You Cannot Quit Me So Quickly

First day back at school, it was very easy to pretend that life was normal. Sarah recognized the feeling; it was the same as the first day after solving the Labyrinth. Sure, the past few days had been weird, but that couldn't beat years and years of habit. The mere act of walking into school and sitting down just before the bell rang was familiar and steady enough to wash away all notions of uneasiness. The ugly brick walls of the classroom seemed thick enough to defend against any manner of ghoulie or ghostie, goblin or grandmother. Or Goblin King. She was protected.

She met her friends in the courtyard for lunch, as usual. They were eager to know about her trip.

"_So?_" asked Dinah. "How did it go?"

"Fine," Sarah replied noncommittally. Benjamin snorted.

"Sarah, you're an actress. Surely you can do better than that."

"It was good, okay? Jeremy is a cool guy, my mom was nice. It was fine."

"What did you do?" prompted Aaron.

Sarah sighed in defeat. "Alright. We saw _The Phantom of the Opera_, and it was really good. We sat around their apartment, which is beautiful and probably cost a fortune. Me and my mom went shopping, and she bought me a dress that _did _cost a fortune. I'll wear it to prom or something. They got married. We went to a fancy reception and I got to meet Jeremy's family. Um. I came home."

"What does the dress look like?" said Dinah immediately. The two guys groaned and Sarah grinned, beginning to warm to the subject.

"It's a full-fledged ball gown, and I don't mean any of that poofy pink school dance crap. Floor-length and slim, in dark gray silk. The skirt's done in tiers and it flares out slightly at the bottom. It's excellent."

"Did you wear it to the wedding, or party, or what?"

"The party. They just got a justice to do the ceremony, nothing big. Mom said that she's too old for all the pomp and circumstance at normal weddings. They made up for it at the reception, believe me."

"How'd you get along with his family?" Aaron looked curious. "You don't really talk to Karen's relatives, do you?"

"Nah. I've only seen her parents once or twice. But Jeremy's mom—wow. She's absolutely adorable to look at, but I think she probably rules the family with an iron fist. She treated me just like I was her real grandchild, not just the teenage daughter of her son's new wife." Sarah blinked, remembering. Then she grimaced comically. "Kinda scary, actually."

"More presents at Christmas," joked Dinah.

"Huh. Oh, and Dinah—my mom was wonderful the entire time. Take that."

"The honeymoon period. I know how these things work. Just you wait, it'll change any moment." The red-haired girl nodded sagaciously. Sarah quirked an eyebrow.

"She's my mom, not an abusive husband."

"Let's not start baiting each other," said Benjamin tolerantly. He looked at Aaron. "My friend, I believe we have news for the girls."

"News..? Oh, yes." Aaron recovered quickly, adopting a grandiloquent air. "Our band is now fully formed; you may worship at your leisure. We are now auditioning groupies. Please feel free to apply."

"Oh, really?" Dinah looked skeptical. "You decided on a name?"

"We have an _excellent_ name," pronounced Ben.

"Oh?"

"Bennie and the Jets."

Sarah and Dinah exchanged glances. Then they burst out laughing. The two boys looked hurt.

"What is this? An Elton John cover band?" asked Sarah. Aaron shook his head.

"We're doing everything. Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Talking Heads, Pink Floyd, REM, Oasis... what else, Ben?"

"Er. Maybe some Metallica. And we're working on a few original songs, too."

The boys and Dinah launched into a conversation about their songwriting skills, or 'lack thereof' as Dinah derisively put it. Sarah glanced away and, by chance, saw an odd little shadow move at the base of the tree. Just out of the corner of her eye, she'd seen a flash of movement too large to be a bird or squirrel. At first she thought that she'd seen somebody throw something, but none of the other students moved to go pick it up. _Maybe there's a cat and it went up the tree, or a crow. A big crow._ She felt nervous all the sudden. She couldn't see anything in the branches. Worry began to knot her stomach.

"...maybe Goblin Market. Sarah?"

Somebody tapped on the girl's shoulder and she jerked away reflexively; shifting, she realized that it had been Aaron. He was staring at her, shaking his hand in the air.

"Geez, where'd that come from?" He asked wonderingly. "Yikes."

"What?" Her voice was confused.

"I just got a huge shock there. That's weird. I don't know why... well, whatever."

Sarah had an idea, but she wasn't about to share it with her friends. She hardly wanted to think about it herself. What could she say? _Sorry, I'm being stalked by this, you know, Goblin King and he kinda gave me magic and when I get nervous it goes off by itself. Or something. Haven't quite got the hang of it yet. By the way, did you see something strange over by the tree just now?_

Maybe it was just a freak accident. Maybe she had been rubbing against her backpack and built up an electric charge. Maybe. She took his hand and kissed the fingers lightly.

"Sorry. What were you guys talking about?" she said vaguely, trying to grasp the broken threads of conversation.

"Dinah thinks that _Goblin Market_ would make a, and I quote, 'awesome' rock song," replied Ben in an 'isn't she so cute' tone. His girlfriend glared at him half-heartedly.

"Goblin Market?" she repeated, wary of coincidence.

"It's an old poem," explained Dinah. "Very cool. Ahem." She began to recite.

"Morning and evening,  
Maids heard the goblins cry:  
Come buy our orchard fruits,  
come buy, come buy.  
Apples and quinces,  
Lemons and oranges,  
Plump unpecked cherries-  
Melons and raspberries,  
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches  
Swart-headed mulberries,  
Wild free-born cranberries,  
Crab-apples, dewberries,  
Pine-apples, blackberries,  
Apricots, strawberries--  
All ripe together  
In summer weather--"

She broke off there, shrugging.

"It's really long. I haven't memorized all of it. But you wouldn't have to use all of it in a song. It has a good plot. It could be, you know, folk-rock-y. Fairport Convention did an excellent version of _Tam Lin_."

Sarah opened her mouth to speak and closed it again, bereft of words. She reorganized her thoughts.

"Who wrote that?" _Bloom-downed-cheek peaches?_

"Christina Rossetti. Her brother was once of the Pre-Raphaelite artists."

"We'll consider it," said Aaron soothingly. "I don't think it's quite in our milieu."

"You don't _have_ a milieu."

Eventually lunch came to an end, and they went their separate ways. Sarah didn't forget the poem, or the shadow, or the bolt of nervous energy that had struck her boyfriend. She was quieter than usual when Dinah drove her home, and happy for the solitude once she shut the house's door behind her. Her house, an old Victorian, was warm and silent and smelled of dust and aging wood. It seemed so safe in the afternoon sunlight. Unfortunately, that wasn't so true. She had first met Jareth there.

She dropped her bookbag in the kitchen and wandered upstairs to her room. She sat down on her bed, closed her eyes, and said, "Hoggle, I need you."

When she opened them, the dwarf was standing on the carpet in front of her.

"Hello, missy," he greeted her, gruff but pleased. "How was your trip?"

"It started off fine, but—oh!" Sarah pulled her hair in frustration. "Did I ever tell you who my mom was marrying? His name's Jeremy. Or Jeremiel, I should say. Jeremiel Dara."

"But that's, er," Hoggle stopped, his wrinkled face flooding with realization. "That's His Majesty's friend."

Sarah nodded. "Little did I know."

"Uh oh." Hoggle winced. "I think I see where this path leads. You ran into Jareth, didn't you?"

"Yep."

"How'd your mum end up marrying that kid? Never mind, don't matter. I guess I see how running into Jareth could spoil your week."

"That's just the beginning of it! One of Jeremy's nephews was being a real creep, and Jeremy's mom adopted me and thinks she can just marry me off! Now I'm a complete mess. I'm overreacting to completely innocent things, and jumping at shadows. I almost thought I saw a goblin at school today! How stupid is that?"

"'S probably nothing," Hoggle reassured her. "I know I get indigestion for days whenever I have to talk to His Majesty."

Sarah was forced to giggle slightly at that.

"I guess so. Sorry for dumping all my troubles on you. Thanks for listening, though, really. I've been keeping this all to myself. You're the only friend I can talk about Underground stuff with."

"Ain't no problem, missy," he said sheepishly. "Any break from work is a blessing. But I should get back about now, before anyone misses me."

"I'll talk to you later, then. Bye, Hoggle."

"Bye, Sarah." He slowly faded from sight. Sarah flopped backwards on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Downstairs, she could hear the sounds of Karen coming through the front door. As usual, she would drop Toby off and then head back to work. It saved on child care, not having him at preschool all day.

"Sarah!" she yelled, voice muffled by the door. "We're home! I have a meeting until 7:00, so you're on your own for dinner!"

"I'll be right there!" the girl called back. By the time she jogged into the family room, Karen was gone and Toby was sitting in front of the television.

"Hey, kiddo."

"Hi, Sarah."

"How was school?"

"Good. We got a little turtle now. I get to feed him on Tuesdays. Can we have McDonald's for dinner?"

Sarah blinked. "Um. Grilled cheese?"

"I don't _want_ grilled cheese. We had that last week." Uh-oh. He was sounding sulky.

"Chef Boyardee? I think there's some ravioli." Personally, Sarah thought it looked gross. But if he was happy...

"No."

"Pancakes?"

"That's breakfast. I want McDonald's." She winced.

"I don't think Karen would like that."

"I _want _McDonald's."

It was a very long afternoon and evening. Toby was in a bad mood, she had too much homework, and dinner sucked. TV dinners were not very satisfying, but Sarah's culinary skills were limited. She went online after eating, looking up the poem that Dinah had mentioned at lunch. It told of a girl who ate goblin fruit and almost wasted away from want of it afterward; her sister saved her in the end. She read for a few hours. Then, at the last moment, she realized that she had a presentation in class the next day and had to dress up. She was forced to dig a clean dress shirt out of her drawers, iron it, then find her nice slacks, realize that they were scrunched up in the back of her closet, and iron _them. _It was past eleven when she finally got to bed; she fell asleep moments after she lay down.

Sarah didn't have time to remember what might be lurking in dreamland. When she found herself in a familiar haziness, she groaned in dismay.

"Why can't I just sleep?" she moaned, looking back and forth for something familiar. She wasn't anywhere near the throne room, as far as she could tell; there were no throne-blobs or even Jareth-blobs. _Though, on second thought, I do have a few questions for His Snootiness. _Sarah allowed herself to emerge a little further into the other world, her sight becoming clearer as she moved forward. The fog solidified into a nicely trimmed lawn, surrounded on all sides by a hedge. A fountain bubbled in the center and a cobblestone pathway looped around it and behind one bush. The towers of the castle loomed close-by.

"Jareth. I know you're here." She sat down on the grass, resigned. The sun was bright overhead; she could feel the rays ever-so-faintly. It was disturbing.

"What a pleasant surprise. I thought you'd snub me." He materialized in front of the fountain and sat down on the edge. It was larger than she had realized. A stone woman in a goblin mask was holding up a large shell or something, from which water trickled out. It fit the landscape.

"I almost did," she said wearily in reply. "But I want to get this over with and go back to sleep. Did you want anything in particular?"

He pursed his lips, looking amused. "I don't know where to begin."

"Okay, I'll start. Can you think of any reason why I might have seen a goblin sneak behind a tree at school today?"

"It was in search of higher education?"

"I am _not_ in the mood for this."

"I thought it might be beneficial to have someone watching you."

"Beneficial! To who? Not me."

"Definitely to you. After you so unwisely declined my tutelage, I wanted to make sure you didn't suffer any... accidents."

Sarah raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Accidents?"

"Beginners can do awful things when left uninstructed, you know. Completely unintentionally. Didn't your step-father tell you how we met?"

"That was different. He had a teacher. He was just really bad."

"The principle is the same. He didn't know what he was doing, he did something stupid."

"I'm sure this was entirely out of the kindness of your heart, then," she retorted sarcastically.

"Of course." The smile he gave her would have looked innocent on any other man. "I'm glad we understand each other."

Which told her nothing. Was he acknowledging that his reply was total bullshit, or just agreeing and being a pain about it? She fought the urge to scream and gnash her teeth.

"Who were your lovely young companions today?" he asked nonchalantly, examining the embroidery on the hem of his jacket. Sarah eyed him distrustfully.

"My best friend, Dinah. Her boyfriend. My boyfriend."

"Your boyfriend? How precious." He spoke in the same pleasant, even voice. "What's his name?"

"None of your business," she said tightly. "Do you know the poem _Goblin Market_?" The change in topic got his attention. He looked up at her.

"I'm familiar with it. The poet had an unfortunate run in with some of my subjects, once upon a time." He smiled again. "I think that you might sympathize with parts of it. The fruit of the goblin orchards can have very strange effects, sometimes." His eyes were hard, despite his calm expression. Sarah, still sitting on the ground, wrapped her arms around her legs. Of all the memories she had of the Labyrinth, he had touched on the ones that hurt the most. He knew it, too.

"I hate you," she whispered from behind her knees. He shrugged and brushed cornsilk hair back from his forehead.

"Why is that, do you think?"

The silence held for a very long time.

"I don't want to talk about it," she whispered, even more softly.

"Personally, I don't think that you really hate me." This arrogant declaration bolstered her spirits somewhat.

"And why is that?" she asked belligerently.

"Because you've stayed here and talked to me for some ten minutes now. Having said that, I'll save you the trouble of storming out." He grinned merrily and disappeared from sight. Sarah stood hastily and looked around, but she was well and truly alone.

"You bastard," she said to the fountain. It continued to burble happily. Her curse was only half-hearted; she didn't believe that the Goblin King was in hearing range. The spot was really very pleasant, and she was tempted to sit down again and bask in the sun. Instead, she floated back through the layers of mist until she awoke. Then she fell asleep for real.

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Somewhere in distant memory, Sarah remembered being told that trouble comes in threes. That week, she began to wonder if the saying was more than superstition. First was the goblin-sighting and the _tête-á-tête _with Jareth; the next day, she overslept, forgot her presentation poster at home, apologized profusely to her government teacher, begged a ride from Dinah during lunch period, and presented the project alone, after school, to her teacher. It was hard to decide which experience was more unpleasant.

The next day, Sarah came home as usual and started to flop down on her bed as usual. She would have taken a nap if something different hadn't caught her eye.

There was something sitting on the top of her vanity, just in front of her jewelry box. She stood and crept closer; it was a neatly folded piece of paper, sealed with a blot of green wax. A design had been pressed into the wax, three leaves arranged in a triangle. It wasn't a familiar sigil. Sarah picked up the paper, which was heavy and cream-colored, and broke the seal with one finger. She made a face as she unfolded it.

"I'm sure I don't want to read this," the girl muttered out loud. Reluctant, she began to read the lines of elegant script.

_My Dear Sarah:_

_My son informed me, under some duress, that he had told you about our family's true nature._

"Nooo," she whined, stamping her foot. "Not a good start."

_So I decided to be frank with you. Our people rarely marry humans but it does sometimes happen, especially when they dwell Aboveground like Jeremiel. Even more rarely do the marriage partners already have children of their own. You must understand that this puts you, and me, in an odd position. I understand that you live in your father's home, which is proper. However, that does not cancel out the relationship you now bear to my own House. As of now, you are my only grandchild by my younger son. I took quite a fancy to you when we met; I love my grandchildren, but all but Callista and Gabriel are very spoiled and ill-mannered. _

_So I have a proposition for you. Jeremy says you have no outstanding contracts or obligations with other families, so I would like to introduce you to Underground society myself. I and my husband are ambassadors in the service of Her Highness, Princess Eseld of Cadfian. We are posted at the court of the King of Idunn, a major kingdom in the north, where many of the finest Houses dwell. Human alliances are rare with our people, as I said before, but there has been many a family that wished to strengthen its stock with the blood of Men. My Lady Eseld is always looking for profitable alliances between her vassals and other kingdoms; between her influence and your own beauty, I believe that I could do quite well for you._

_I am aware of your misgivings on this topic, but I do not think that you understand the wonderful chance you have been given. The Aboveground is a harsh, unpleasant place. I myself detest it. Even if you are not open to a betrothal immediately, I do hope that you come to visit us for a time. I have enclosed a token that will bring you to our home in Idunn. The court convenes again in six weeks. Please, do come any time between now and then. If you do not arrive by the middle of next month, I will send a servant to fetch you._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Lady Angharad Dara, Royal Emissary of Cadfian_

Sarah stood in front of her vanity, mouth slightly open, for several minutes. Then she reread the letter to make sure she had understood. When she was certain, she placed the paper carefully back on the tabletop. A small silver disk slid off of it and clinked onto the wood. It was engraved with the same leafy design.

"Shit," she breathed. Despite all appearances, Sarah was not a casual swearer. She only cursed in extreme situations. Right then, she decided, was an extreme situation if she ever saw one. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit!_" She covered her eyes with her hands. "Oh, crap. If I don't come, someone will come and fetch me! What did I do to deserve this?"

Sarah grabbed the offending piece of paper and threw it into the metal wastebasket on the floor next to the vanity. That made her feel better. She glared furiously at the half-full wastebasket.

The contents burst merrily into flames.

Sarah shrieked. Without thinking, she grabbed the outer case, barreled through her bedroom door, and ran down the hall into the bathroom. She threw the flaming trash can into the shower and turned the faucet on full blast, letting the cold spray douse the fire. She watched, breathing heavily. The flames subsided quickly, leaving only a soggy black mess oozing from the wastebasket. The plastic trash bag lay partially melted on top of it. Sarah slumped down onto the toilet and tried not to cry.

Of course, Karen picked that moment to come driving up to the house. The teenager could hear car doors slam from out front, followed by the front door opening.

"Dropping Toby off!" called Karen. "See you later!"

Sarah couldn't quite summon the voice to respond to her, but her stepmother left again without waiting for a reply. She sniffed loudly, swiped at her eyes, and scooped the ashy mess back into the trash can. She dumped the contents into the bathroom trash bag and let the shower run a little longer to wash away the black stain. Then she replaced her wastebasket in her room and walked shakily downstairs. She found Toby talking on the phone to someone.

"Toby? Whatcha doing?" she asked. She hadn't noticed the phone ringing.

"It's Aaron," he told her. Then, into the phone, "Here she is." He handed it to her.

"Hey, Aaron," Sarah said dully into the receiver.

"What's wrong, babe?" He sounded far too happy. Sarah sighed.

"Nothing. Just—it's a long story. Nevermind. What's up?"

"I was going to ask if you wanted to go get some pizza tonight. Unless you're babysitting?"

"No, Karen and Dad should be home for dinner. But I, um, have lots of homework to do. I don't feel so well either." _In fact, I think I may go kill myself now. Before I burn down the house and get kidnapped by elves. _"Maybe this weekend."

"Sure. Sure. No problem." Did he sound slightly hurt? Sarah was too troubled to care.

"Bye then."

"Bye."

She hung up. She could here the sound of cartoons from the family room again, so Toby was safely occupied. Sarah let her head sink down onto the kitchen counter and covered her face with her arms. Tear leaked slowly out of her eyes to pool onto the cool granite.

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That's all for now. **Writer from Rivendell, onesmallmunchkin, Redhead Ruth, Aowyn, draegon-fire, Reverie919, Kathleen Jackson, Velf, Lovely Doom, kathleen, and apsara—**thanks so much for taking the time to review. It means a lot to me (and definitely provides motivation to write more quickly). :-)


	7. Solid Walls of Sound

Ch. 7: Solid Walls of Sound

A small hand touched Sarah on the shoulder, drawing her back to herself.

"Don't cry," entreated a piping voice. "Stop, now. 's alright"

Sarah raised her head from her arms, her dark hair spilling forward to hide her eyes. She expected to see Toby, but instead her gaze met that of a small creature perched on the counter next to her. Sarah didn't jump, or yell, or scream; her capacity for strong emotion was worn out for the day. She wasn't even that surprised. This, she supposed, was the Watcher.

"Who are you?" she asked dully. She sniffed loudly and wiped her face halfheartedly with the back of one hand.

"I'm Pidgin."

The goblin hopped in front of her. Sarah studied it more carefully. Pidgin was about the size of beagle, and almost as cute. It had over-sized orange eyes and large pointy ears; its skin was a sickly olive green and it had webbed hands and feet. Its posture was similar to that of a frog. She smiled wanly.

"Are you watching me, Pidgin?"

"Maybe," it muttered. It looked down. "Didn't mean no harm. Weren't supposed to talk to you."

"My little brother is in the next room. You should probably go before he sees you."

"Nah, he's sleepin'. I looked first."

"Are you going to tell Jareth about the fire?"

"Maybe."

"I'd rather that you not."

"Hmph." It scratched its head. "I know m'job." It hopped a little bit away from her, down the counter, but turned to study her again. "Should be more careful. Don't get angry. Or sad. You know?"

"No, I don't," she said. "But emotion triggers these... episodes. Right?"

"Seems so." Pidgin bobbed its head at her. "Going now. Bye." It hopped off the edge of the counter. Sarah scrambled up and peered at the floor. The goblin was nowhere to be seen. Gone back to wherever it came from. _Though if its been watching me, it can't have gone far. _Sarah thought of the misty lands, where she could see the Labyrinth without actually entering it. Perhaps Pidgin watched her from between the Aboveground and Underground. The Middleground. Sarah's mouth curled up slightly. That was a good name for it.

The cry had made Sarah feel better, letting out the confusion and frustration she had felt for weeks. Didn't solve any of her problems, but she felt a little more clearheaded now. Sarah tiptoed into the family room to look at Toby; he was sleeping, as Pidgin had said. _Must have been a big day at preschool_. He was curled up on the couch, oblivious of the chatter coming from the television. One arm was thrown across his head and his yellow (reminding her of daisies or buttercups) curls had fallen across his face. He really looked sweet, asleep, worlds away from the whiny and self-centered child he could be when awake. This was the Toby who drew her pictures and hugged her after a discouraging day at school. The girl watched him tenderly. She was so glad she had been able to save him.

She turned away and halted, making a little gasping noise. A pile of flowers lay on the coffee table: marigolds and white-petaled daisies, little buttercups and long-stemmed yellow roses. Enough to make two sizable bouquets. _More pleasant than fires or electric shock,_ she thought grimly. Not surprising. Still disturbing. Apparently Pidgin's warnings on emotion extending to good ones as well as bad ones. But how was she supposed to stop her feelings? She couldn't spend the rest of her life like that, never being happy or sad or angry.

Sarah gathered the flowers into her arms and carried them away, up to her room. She put as many as could into her one legitimate vase, and stuffed the rest in the tallest plastic cups she could find. She even ran out to the recycle bin and grabbed a few empty jars. By the time she was done, her dresser and vanity and bookshelves were bedecked with yellow. The flowers were pretty, and would have been cheerier if they hadn't presented such a dilemma.

If Sarah dreamed that night, she didn't remember it. Upon waking, she was left only with an impression of words emerging from darkness: _Let me help you before you hurt yourself._

She ignored them as best she could. _I don't want to go back there._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Benjamin and Aaron, along with Tim and Vince, held their first concert a week later. It was on a Friday night and they had managed to get permission to play at the park: it was equipped with a nice gazebo that was rarely used. Two other bands joined them, kids from school that Sarah recognized but didn't know. The place was milling with teenagers, lured outside by the promise of loud music and a rumor of free alcohol. Sarah didn't approve and she was pretty sure that Aaron and Benjamin were leery of trouble, but it was somewhat inevitable. She only hoped that everything would stay calm.

Sarah walked to the park, as was her custom, and met her friends in the parking lot. It was already crowded, but she could spot Dinah with all the members of "Bennie and the Jets" right away—they were congregated around Aaron's blue wreck of a car.

"Howdy, strangers," she said amiably as she strode up to the group. Dinah grinned, Aaron gave her a one-armed hug, and the others nodded. She studied the band members, who were all dressed in jeans and t-shirts as usual.

"Shouldn't you guys be a little more, you know, glam? Electric boots, mohair suits?" she joked. Benjamin made a horrible face.

"We are poor high school students," said Tim mournfully. "Maybe when we hit it big. Platform shoes, full-body make-up, glitter—we can do the works then."

"Sorry, hon, but you four are never gonna get away with full-body make-up and glitter," commented Dinah. "You don't have it in you. It takes a real man to pull glitter off."

Ben snorted. "Now that's one I haven't heard before."

"When are you guys playing?" asked Sarah quickly, sensing an argument coming on.

"We go second," replied Aaron.

"Maybe in an hour or so," clarified Vince.

"Hopefully this'll last that long," said Ben dourly. Sarah raised an eyebrow,and he nodded over to the side. Sarah looked and saw a group of guys, about their age, unloading a case of beer from the back of a minivan. She winced.

"Yeah," said Ben. "A drink or two in the basement of one's house is one thing-- frankly, I don't care if they get plastered every night as long as they keep to themselves. But I am going to kick their drunken asses if they get us in trouble. Hopefully the police won't show up until _after_ we play."

"Do you think they will?" asked Dinah. Sarah looked around; it was getting dark, and she didn't see anyone besides teenagers out and about. The park was usually pretty deserted after five.

"Don't be such a pessimist, man. It'll be fine." Aaron shrugged. "We have awhile before we set up. Who wants to look around? I heard that Natalie Johnson was going to sell food."

The group left the parking lot and wandered into the mass of adolescents roaming the park. It was pretty amazing—Sarah hadn't realized what a production this was going to be. Besides the bands, there was Natalie selling drinks and chips, one competitor selling baked goods, and other, less visible people selling beer and vodka. As concerts went, it wasn't big, but it was large for a gathering put together entirely by high-schoolers. The six walked around while the first band warmed-up, greeting the occasional acquaintance and eating. Sarah's friends teased her about her reticence for the past week—she had gone missing outside of school, they said. Sarah shrugged and apologized, but didn't offer any explanation. What could she say? She was afraid of causing havoc? She had guarded her emotions since conjuring the flowers, but she didn't quite trust her luck.

Everyone converged around the gazebo-stage once the first band began to play: it was harder rock than Sarah preferred, harsh and far too thrashy to sing along to. It was, however, well-played, and the crowd was obviously pleased. They were packed tightly together in front of the gazebo and, slowly at first, began to dance _en masse_. By then it was full dark and the parking lot lights did little to illuminate the rest of the park. Sarah, Aaron, and Dinah were pressed into the middle of the mob and separated from the other three before they noticed. The world for Sarah, who was not particularly tall, became bounded by the dark, the music, and the bodies moving around her. She could feel the energy in the crowd acutely; it crackled in the air like static electricity, worrying her and exciting her in equal measure.

The sensible part of her worried about the possible actions of unrestrained, possibly intoxicated teens; the rest of her, the parts that yearned for something _else_ in her life, something that made her feel intensely alive, cheered.

It was easy to understand and sympathize with all the rebels in her school, at times like these. The ones who drank and smoked and slept around. Everyone, she thought, her, and them, and everybody else, were looking for the same thing. A transcendent experience.

Sarah gave herself up to the mob and the music, forgetting any reasons why she might not want to lose self-control. She closed her eyes and joined the frenetic movements of those around her. She raised her face to the starry sky above and enjoyed the heat around her body and the cooler air that touched her uplifted head.

An interminable amount of time passed.

When Sarah opened her eyes again, the moon had risen. The new light dazzled her eyes, faint and ghostly as it was. Looking around, she couldn't find any familiar faces. She caught a flash of red hair to her left; no, the swaying figure was pale but tall, scarlet hair falling to its waist. Unnaturally green eyes flashed in the light. Sarah blinked. Definitely not Dinah. But no local high-school student either. Maybe a sibling from out of town.

Sarah pushed her way through the throng of people, hoping but not expecting to find her friends. She happened upon Ellie Nguyen after a few minutes, sipping a can of soda at the fringes of the crowd.

"Have you seen Dinah or Aaron?" called Sarah.

"What?" Ellie replied, cupping her free hand around an ear.

"Have you seen Dinah or Aaron?" she yelled, louder. Ellie nodded.

"Not Dinah!" she called. "Aaron's there!" She pointed to a picnic table a little ways away. Sarah waved her thanks and sauntered over to the table, relishing the fresh air. She could see distant lights in the woods—fireflies? It was almost May, but it still seemed a little early.

"Hey," she said as she sat down. Aaron smiled.

"Hey."

"Nice evening."

"Yep." Aaron studied her with his soft brown eyes. Sarah made a face.

"What?"

"Just looking," he replied. He paused. "Want to tell me what's been bothering you all week?"

"I don't know." She winced. "Probably nothing. Just got the blues for awhile, I guess. I'm fine."

"If you say so," he said dubiously. "You can always talk to me, you know. If you need to."

"Sure." Sarah looked down at the wooden tabletop, drumming her fingers against the surface. She bit her lip. _If only..._

"Do you believe in magic?" she asked, almost pleadingly. Aaron started in surprise.

"Magic?" He blinked quickly. "That's a strange question. No, I don't think so. I mean, I like Lord of the Rings as much as the next person, but I never really believed in fairies and dragons and unicorns, stuff like that. It would be nice, maybe, but I can't." He smiled. "Too literal a mind, I guess."

"Oh." Sarah sighed soundlessly. She couldn't tell him. Not about Jareth, or Pidgin, or the fire and flowers, or even about Grandmother Dara's note. _I wish I could. It would be such a relief, not to pretend..._

"What made you think of that? No, wait, let me guess. Beltane."

"Beltane?" she asked, confused. Aaron nodded.

"Come on, what kind of fantasy nut are you? Dinah was raving about it earlier. It's April 30th. May Day eve. Beltane. You know, druids, fairies, bonfires, blah blah blah?"

"Beltane," she whispered, remembering. "You're right. I didn't think of that."

"Funny, that we ended up out dancing and singing on this night, of all nights."

"Yes." Why was she nervous all the sudden, all over again? It was silly. Beltane was just an old human holiday, and Jeremy had said that his folk weren't really the Sidhe, or elves, or whatever. And Jareth wasn't even one of Jeremy's people. Er. To Sarah's racing mind, this seemed reassuring. Maybe legends and certain novels did say that the Faery Queen rose out on May eve. But the Daras weren't actually faeries and Jareth was definitely not. And none of them were queens. As a result, absolutely no reason to be worried. None. Nada. Yup.

_Damn paranoia_, she thought.

"Looks like they're finishing up," commented Aaron lightly. Sarah forced her mind away from dangerous thoughts and concentrated on the conversation. They. Aaron was talking about the first band.

"Ladies and gentleman," said the lead singer over his microphone, "We are the Gaping Crows! If you liked what you heard, come see us at our show next week! Flyers are available." He replaced the mic in its stand and the band began to pack up, amid applause and whistles.

"Guess you better get down there," said Sarah. "You guys are up next."

"Great," he laughed. "Don't worry, I probably won't throw up on stage. But you better come down too, to watch. Being one of our two groupies, and all."

Aaron walked back towards his car, where all their equipment was stashed; Sarah made her way towards the stage. The mass had dispersed during the intermission, resting their weary feet and guzzling their beverages of choice while sprawled on the grass. For awhile, the air held only the sound of muted voices and chirping insects, punctuated every now and then with a sharp burst of laughter. The flashing fireflies still buzzed in the woods. She strode over the grass, covered with people, but still felt an eerie sense of loneliness creeping up on her. She saw none of her school friends. Even acquaintances and familiar faces were few and far between. Sarah wondered, vaguely, where everyone was coming from. All three bands were from her high school.

The band was set up on stage in a matter of ten or fifteen minutes: Ben in front, an electric guitar hung around his neck, Aaron with his bass, blond Tim on the keyboard, and Vince with his drum set. All four had microphones for singing.

The kids floated back toward the stage.

"Good evening," said Ben into the microphone, voice dramatically deep. His best Dracula impression. It got a wave of chuckles from the audience. "Jack's group is a tough act to follow, but we're gonna do our best. I'm sure you're tired from the last set, so we'll give you a bit of a break, first song." He stepped back and gave some sort of signal to the rest of the band.

Tim started. Sarah grinned as she recognized the song, beginning with a simple tune on the keyboard. A glint of red caught her eye; she saw the crimson-haired woman from before moving next to her. The woman winked at Sarah and shifted; the girl saw the light glitter off of her bare arm—light reflected off of iridescent, skin-toned scales. She drew her breath in harshly.

_Hey kids, shake it loose together  
__The spotlight's hitting something  
__That's been known to change the weather..._

Aaron sang the first lines, his pleasant voice not quite as low as Ben's. Sarah turned sharply away from the stage, away from the creature next to her. She surveyed the sea of faces now in front of her, turned strange in the half-light.

..._We'll kill the fatted calf tonight,  
__So stick around..._

Human, human, entranced by the music. It was their theme song; the words were the original ones so far, but the arrangement sounded like "Bennie and the Jets" played by the choirs of Hell. What _was _Aaron doing on bass?

She saw a pair of eyes with no whites, just full shining black. No one else noticed.

..._you're gonna hear electric music,  
__solid walls of sound..._

And there, towards the edges, a figure that was too tall and skinny to be mistaken for another teenager. She almost mistook it for a tree. Sarah began moving forward, pushing through the swaying mob faster and faster.

..._Say Candy and Ronnie, have you seen them yet,  
__Oh but they're so spaced out, Bennie and the Jets... _

It really was too early for fireflies. And the lights were too large. They had left the line of the forest, gliding closer and closer to the people. Sarah pushed harder, almost running.

_...Oh but they're weird and they're wonderful,  
__Bennie, he's really keen...._

Sarah broke through the edge of the crowd and was running full out in the moonlight, mindlessly. Toward the forest. Toward her oak tree, toward her cool marble bench. The excitement of the music and the clear night air was mixing with her genuine fear and bewilderment.

..._they've got electric boots, and mohair suits,  
__you know I read it in a magazine,  
__Bennie and the Jets..._

Fear, but wonder too. This wasn't Lady Dara or her shining step-cousins, overbearing and perfect—this was bright and wild, _rich and strange. _This was the host of faerie if anything was, more akin to the Labyrinth than Jeremy or Angharad. But still not quite that. There were tiny _beings _in the hovering lights, and not the vicious pixies she had seen in the Labyrinth. She saw more, now, dozens of figures watching from afar: some tall and slender, some short and knobby, some waifish and wraithlike.

_...Hey, kids, plug into the faithless,  
__Maybe they're blinded,  
__But Bennie makes them ageless..._

Almost there, almost there, though why her bench should be safer than anywhere else, she didn't know. Something was bubbling up inside her, until she felt near bursting.

_...We shall survive, let us take ourselves along,  
__Where we fight our parents out in the streets  
__To find who's right and who's wrong...  
__Bennie and the Jets._

She ran into the outstretched arms of the oak tree and felt all her restless energy burst out of her in an explosion of relief and amazement and a crazy sort of joy. She reached the oak but somehow she was still moving, feet still pounding on the grass. Sarah didn't notice the song end behind her, or the sudden distant wail of sirens. She didn't notice the flashing red-and-blue lights approach—the police had been tipped off to the cases of alcohol at the concert, drunk freely by the teens. She was lost in the feeling of wind in her hair and stars above her and the knowledge that mystery still lurked in her deadeningly prosaic town.

Sarah didn't come to her senses until she realized that the tree was still above her. She was running, but the tree was still above her. She looked up and around, and there was the forest and the bench. Hazy and blurry, and growing more so by the moment. She skidded to a stop, but the ground beneath her didn't feel so much like packed dirt and grass anymore. Too soft, too insubstantial.

"No," she whispered. She whirled around. Her eyes felt unfocused, but she couldn't bring anything into clear view. Cue the panic. She had somehow crossed over into the Middleground.

"Oh, god," she pleaded. She took a few steps backwards, but there was no change. She was stuck. "Oh, no."

_Badbadbadbadbadbadbad. BAD. What happened? How did I..?_

She'd been here before. Only problem was, this time she wasn't sleeping. She couldn't escape by waking up. It wasn't her consciousness in the fog, but her body.

She took a deep breath and tried to float back to the park, like she floated back to her room in her dreams. It didn't work. She felt too heavy, too substantial. It... didn't... work.

Sarah bit back her panic, tried to swallow the cries rising in her throat.

"Pidgin?" she called, hoping that her Watcher would be around. No response. Louder this time: "Pidgin? Are you... can you hear me?"

Nothing.

Her legs crumpled from underneath her and she sank to the ground. Whatever bravery she had felt in the Labyrinth, years ago, failed to reappear. There, she had a goal. She knew what she was supposed to do; it was just a matter of doing it in time. She met friendly creatures along the way. She hadn't been alone.

Now—the solution wasn't quite so clear. She was alone. She was trapped.

"I'm so stupid," she mumbled into her knees, eyes squeezed shut. Well, wasn't this what the Goblin King had predicted? Sarah had finally done something big. The fire had been scary and the flowers nice, but she didn't see a way out of here.

"The worst part..." she muttered, trailing off. She grimaced. There was an idea, in her mind, of what she could do. She didn't relish the thought.

It was chilly, here in the space between realities. Her tank top and jeans weren't quite up to the task of warming her.

_The worst part will be admitting that I'm wrong._

Sarah was, without warning, utterly exhausted. She straightened her hair and stood up shakily, pulling down on her shirt. When she looked a little more composed, she pushed back her pride and opened her mouth.

"Jareth?" she said. She cleared her throat, and repeated it more loudly. "Jareth? I... need help. Please."

Nothing. Sarah tried rephrasing her words.

"Jareth. Please help me. I don't know what to do."

She shut her eyes and waited. It was utterly silent; no sound leaked to her from the park. The fast patter of her heartbeat seemed nearly audible.

Then, a footstep. Another, from behind her. The girl didn't turn or open her eyes. A swish of cloth against cloth. A leather-encased hand closed around her upper arm.

"This was rather more spectacular than I was expecting," he said, close to her ear. She flinched away from the sensation of his breath on her face.

"Get me out," she said, uncomfortable but still somehow comforted.

"Certainly," the King replied. "But this may not be pleasant. Keep hold of my hand."

She tentatively wrapped her fingers around his. When she looked up at his face, his own countenance was unreadable, not mocking as she expected. Mercurial Goblin King, always moving swiftly from one mood to the next. The blank face was perhaps more unnerving than any other expression—it was then that he seemed most alien, his eyes ancient and undecipherable.

"Here we go," he announced in a light voice that didn't match his face.

He pulled her forward and then something _bad_ happened. The fog became dark and then they were rushing through flashing lights, landscapes forming around them for a second before switching to a different one. Black, red, blue, white, they whirled past so fast as to dazzle her eyes, and alternating bitter cold and harsh heat set her even more off balance. They moved faster than she could run, and then she was just being dragged along—her feet slogging through _something_ thick and cloying.

Finally the world turned utterly black and Sarah opened her mouth to scream, felt the vibration in her throat, but heard nothing. She knew her hand was clenched around Jareth's, but she couldn't feel anything. Her mind rebelled...

...and then she knew nothing. Oblivion was a welcome retreat.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: Another chapter done! Finally. Sorry, school's kinda interfering with my free-time nowadays. Durn school. ;-) Hopefully next chapter will arrive fairly soon.

I would like to thank my reviewers once again for their input: **Awhina, Etre-loup de Madame, Velf, CrimsonSympathy, tabbicat 12, Cyber Keiko, Lovely Doom, onesmallmunchkin, draegon-fire, b00kperson, Mystic Catface, and Anon. **I 'preciate it.


	8. No Escape From Reality

Chapter Eight: No Escape From Reality

Sarah awoke in a darkened room, feeling disoriented and vaguely sick. Her mind processed information slowly—she was on a couch. There was a pillow under her head. No lamps—she could hear the crackle of a fire, and felt a warm glow coming from behind her. She felt stiff and wrinkled, as though she had slept in her clothes; which was exactly what she had done, she saw. The girl didn't quite feel ready to sit up. She spit dark hair away from her mouth, where it had fallen over her face, and glanced weakly at the piece of furniture she was resting on. It was a spindly wooden affair, perhaps mahogany, covered with undecipherable carving. It was upholstered in a stiff green brocade. The pillow stuck behind her seemed to be of similar fabric.

_Where am I?_

She cast her eyes upward. It was a tall room, and the ceiling was unaffected by the fireplace's flickering light. She couldn't see through the shadows. The walls were well-cut gray stone, smoothly polished. Not her house. Not Dinah's house. Nowhere that she recognized at all. She searched her memory for clues.

Music, she remembered music. The concert. Okay. Talking with Aaron—Beltane? They started playing, and she had seen—many things, scaled women and strange-eyed boys, floating lights and a person-who-was-almost-a-tree. A wild burst of something, running, and—

_she was trapped stuck lost in a misty place that wasn't quite the park but wasn't quite anywhere else where she could see everything but not quite touch and then she called HIM because she didn't know what to do and then they fell into something awful that she couldn't name not soft mist but a deeply disturbing rush of everything imaginable and some things that weren't_

Sarah sat up in a rush, and then groaned as she felt nausea overcome her. She held herself very still for a few moments and it faded. Then, carefully, she turned her head.

There was a table in front of the couch, as low and spidery as the couch was. Across the table were two chairs. One was occupied. There slouched the Goblin King, head propped up on his hand and legs stretched out over the table. He was watching her with interest. He might have been suppressing a smile.

She couldn't think of anything to say.

"Thank you would be a nice start," he commented. Sarah made a rude noise.

"...thank... you," she said grudgingly, as if it hurt. Which it did. Her pride was smarting something awful.

"Such an ungrateful girl. I see you haven't changed."

"You're still a self-righteous jerk. You haven't changed either."

"Where does that leave us, then?" Jareth sat up straighter in his chair. "You are in the Labyrinth, if you were wondering."

"I figured that."

"However did you manage to get stuck halfway between planes?" he asked, voice bored but eyes alert.

"I hoped you could tell me."

"I am no expert in divination—my talents lie in other fields." He grinned mischievously and Sarah tried to squash all the images that rose in her mind. _Bad. Nuh-uh. Not going there._

"Tell me what you do know," he prompted. "What happened before you trapped yourself?"

"I was at a concert. I danced for awhile, and just listened for awhile. Then I noticed. Um. Some of the people at the concert weren't, er, human. It was unnerving, especially after all the crap I've had to put up with since..." She trailed off and glared at Jareth halfheartedly. "Well, I think you know what I mean. I wanted to get away from it all, so I started running to my bench—this spot in the park I always go, with a big oak tree. I had to run through more of the faeries to get there. They were... amazing. Scary, but cool too." Sarah was silent for a beat. "Eventually I noticed that I was still running, but I wasn't going anywhere."

"I see." His eyes became hooded, thinking. "Yes, it is Beltane, isn't it? That would explain the fae appearing in your park. I never paid much attention to such times. The fabric of the worlds grow thin, then, as it does on certain other days. Midsummer, Samhain, others. It makes it easier for everyone to cross over, if they know how."

"_I _don't know," she muttered petulantly. Jareth snorted.

"Obviously. If Pidgin's reports to me have been accurate, your powers seem to react disproportionately to your emotions. If you were agitated enough, then it might have caused an outburst of magic without your knowledge."

Sarah considered this. First there had been the euphoria from the dancing, followed by shock and fear, and finally awe. And as she ran, she had felt something come loose...

"How did I get stuck?" she asked. "In dreams, I always traveled fine."

"Several reasons, I would think. First of all, you started on your journey without any picture of where you were going—that's a problem. Secondly, you traveled through the waking world. In sleep, you have instinct to guide you. Awake, reason alone isn't enough. That aside, though, you actually have mass when you travel through the waking world. My kingdom is tied closer to dreams than others are. I doubt that you could travel anywhere else while asleep." He stopped, looking thoughtful. Sarah studied him with some surprise. This was a side of him that she had never seen before: Jareth the sorcerer, contemplating the science of magic. It dulled his sharp edge. At least momentarily.

"I had to take you the long way, to get to the Labyrinth," he continued. "You didn't react well."

"No." She still felt sick. "How long was I asleep?"

"Nearly five hours."

"Five hours!" Sarah tried to get up, but fell back weakly when the nausea rose again. "I _have_ to get back! Dinah and Aaron and Ben are... my parents will be furious!"

"Go back?" Jareth lifted his eyebrows and spoke in a mock-surprised tone. The scientist was gone, and the Goblin King was back. "You want to go back home now, with no idea how to keep this from happening again?"

"I--" she stuttered. "I don't have time. God, Dad and Karen will think that I was out with Aaron--" She shut her mouth abruptly. "They'll jump to conclusions if I'm gone all night."

"I can imagine," he murmured. Sarah felt her cheeks redden involuntarily. _Damn him and his suggestive tone. _

"So. Please, take me back?" She forced her voice into something resembling polite. Jareth chuckled and stood up.

"Of course not. Do you seriously think that I would let you go, now that you're here again?"

The girl's jaw dropped.

"You c-can't just keep me here."

"You will stay until you can figure out how to leave on your own. It's only _fair,_don't you think?" Oh, he was enjoying this. Far too much. Sarah would have jumped to strangle him, if she could guarantee she wouldn't fall over and throw up in the process.

"You _bastard_," she spat. "You were just waiting for this, weren't you?"

"I have only your best interests at hand, dear child."

Right. Like she was going to believe that, with the shit-eating grin on his face. She was so angry that she was speechless.

"You can stay in here. It's one of the guest rooms, not that I ever have many guests. Perhaps you should spend the rest of the night on the couch—I don't think you could handle much movement right now."

Sarah hadn't noticed the canopied and curtained bed on one side of the room. It was a large room, and it was dark.

"You can't imprison me here against my will!"

The smile faded from his face. "Don't be difficult about this," he said shortly. "You asked me for help and I brought you to the Underground. Because I am such a wonderful person, I will take it on myself to teach you not to hurt yourself."

"Fuck you," Sarah muttered.

"How kind of you to offer," he shot back. "Maybe some other time. I think I'll leave you to get your rest now."

And.... he disappeared, as he was so apt to do. The girl punched the couch with one fist, hard. _That asshole. That smug, overbearing, conceited asshole._ She couldn't believe that he was doing this. She couldn't believe that she had been so stupid as to ask him for help.

She wanted to get up. She wanted to stomp around the room, throw things, bang on the door. No doubt it was locked. Unfortunately, just the thought of rising made her feel sick to her stomach. Apparently she had contracted a severe case of motion-sickness. Traveling-through-dimensions sickness? Something.

"There are few things more miserable," Sarah said to the couch, "Than being absolutely enraged and unable to do anything about it."

Sarah lowered herself back down and eased her head onto the pillow. It was a nice pillow. It was a nice couch, a nice room. Much better than her room at home. Small consolation for being stuck in the Goblin Kingdom. Her rage slowly melted into a cold, miserable puddle of worry and unease. Five hours was bad enough. But how long would she be here now? Days? Weeks? Months?

..._forever?_

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. The Goblin King was a jerk, but she didn't think he was that malevolent.

_He would have kept _Toby _forever, _she reminded herself. She hoped that was different, though. She had wished Toby away. This time, Sarah had only asked for a bit of help.

Thirteen hours in the Labyrinth had translated into three or four at home. That was still too much. Her dad and Karen would have enough time to notice she was gone, to be angry and then worried and then terrified. She would miss school. The police would look for her. Then, when—_if—_she returned, what could she say? How could she explain?

Would her mother and Jeremy hear? Would he guess, when she vanished without a trace? Would Angharad Dara's emissary be unable to find her?

The girl chuckled humorlessly. A cold comfort, that was. Angharad couldn't whisk her away to court because Jareth had whisked her away first.

Eventually she must have fallen asleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When she next awoke, Sarah's first thought was that she had been transported once again. The room she was in now was light and airy, with two tall window-doors on one wall. They appeared to open to a balcony. The walls were still stone, but it was pale. And there was the canopied bed, but it didn't look nearly as ominous.

Then she realized that she was on the same spindly couch, in the same arrangement of furniture. My, how daylight made a difference. It would almost be pleasant, if she hadn't been forced into staying there.

Gingerly, Sarah sat up. She was stiff and her mouth tasted horrible, but otherwise okay. She swung her legs off the couch. Still okay. She stood. Still okay. She sighed in relief. Last night had felt like seasickness x10... this was much better. _Jareth better watch his back now._

There were three doors in the room, both identically made of heavily carved dark wood. The closest one was right next to the fireplace. She walked around the couch, grabbed the handle, and pulled gingerly.

It swung open with little effort. The girl peeked around the edge of the door and jumped. It was a closet, and there was a goblin inside. Several goblins, actually.

"Pidgin!" exclaimed Sarah, recognizing one of them. Pidgin bobbed his head. "What are you doing in here?"

"Waitin' for you," it muttered. The two other goblins nodded rapidly. They were normal goblins, small and wrinkled and big-eared.

"What do you mean? Are you still supposed to spy on me?" Pidgin was cute as a button, but she was too irritated to let that halt her anger.

"Not spyin'," it grumbled. "Just waitin'. Midge and Rickle too. Show ya where to go."

"Hmm?" Sarah had trouble understanding its fragmented speech. Pidgin made a sighing noise and hopped past her; the other two skittered after him. No question who the leader of this expedition was. Sarah brought up the rear, curious to know what it was talking about. The goblins stopped in front of one of the other doors.

"Go on," said Pidgin. Sarah opened this next door. It revealed a stony spiral staircase, lit from above, that twirled down and out of sight. Sarah went down the first few steps and peeked her head around the corner. The stairs ended on a stone floor. Another doorway was veiled with a cloth hanging. She looked back at the goblins behind her. They scrambled down the steps and flew past her, pushing the cloth aside. Sarah followed again, apprehensively, and went through the doorway.

It was a bathroom.

There was a large bathtub sunken into the stone floor, square and perhaps hip-deep. An archaic looking toilet sat primly against one wall, and it was joined by a washbasin on a pedestal. Everything was hooked into rickety-looking copper pipes, old but still shiny. A slightly tarnished mirror, full-length, occupied one corner. The room was simple and not very big, but it had an aura of spare, spartan beauty. It looked like the sort of bathroom that artsy people in high-rise apartments might commission. The ceiling was high. There was no visible source of light.

"Wow," the girl whispered, looking around. "I hadn't expected... this didn't seem like an indoor-plumbing kind of place."

"The wizard did it," replied Pidgin cryptically. It grimaced to itself. "Wash—we will see to things up the stairs."

Sarah glanced around again—a pile of fluffy towels hung on a rack. Were those there before?

It would have been nice to have been able to hang on to her rage and resentment a little bit longer, but she _really_ wanted a bath. She could be angry at Jareth later. He certainly made it easy.

"Alright," she said to the goblins. "I'll try to hurry."

They bobbed their heads in unison and loped out of the room, feet pattering lightly as they climbed the stairs. Sarah turned her attention to the bathtub. Smoothly-hewn steps led into it and, there, were two knobs to let water in. Sarah bent down and gave them both liberal twists. They made a strange popping noise, but water ran into the tub quickly enough. It was even warm. Well. A pleasant surprise. She stripped off her day-old clothes and waited.

It was a glorious bath. It was _heavenly. _Few things feel better than a warm bath when you've been battered about space and time, and left unwashed for over a day. Sarah found a jar of something like soap that smelled like roses, and scrubbed it liberally through her hair. When she was done, she donned her old clothes again reluctantly.

Up the little staircase, through the heavy door. She emerged into the sunny room, still bright and quiet. Pidgin, Midge, and Rickle were nowhere to be seen; she even checked in the closet again. Empty. There was clothing laid across the bed, through, a pile in various shades of green. Sarah took a few steps closer and examined it: a cream-colored shift, a mint green underdress, and a forest green overdress. The cloth was soft and vivid but free of ornamentation, and the cut was simple. It may have looked rich to a denim-and-t-shirt wearing society, but Sarah recognized it as plain garb.

_Does this say something about my position here? s_he thought. No matter. It was clean. Sarah shucked off her grubby Aboveground clothes again and pulled the new ones over her head. The overdress laced up the front, leaving paler green to peep out at the collar and sleeves.

So. She was washed and dressed; if only... oh.

A bowl of fruit sat on the low table in front of the couch. It _definitely_ had not been there before. It was laden with apples and oranges, grapes and strawberries. No peaches. Thank God. Sarah took a couple of apples, vaguely thinking of Snow White, and wandered over to the tall window that led outside. She pulled on the handle and was surprised when it actually opened. She stepped outside gingerly, looking back and forth at her surroundings. No other inhabitants to be seen. Her balcony overlooked a garden, from rather high up; in the distance, she could see a familiar-looking fountain. Beyond that was the Labyrinth, twisting wildly across the horizon. She averted her eyes from it, sitting down on the stone and leaning against the railing. It was pleasantly warm. She ate her apples and let the sun dry her hair, feeling all too peaceful.

Yes, it was a beautiful day. Yes, she had a huge room and a bathroom to herself. Yes, she didn't have to go sit through a tedious 90 minutes of precalculus class. But Sarah had to remind herself that she couldn't meditate there, alone, forever. There was a Goblin King lurking somewhere close-by, and he had stolen her away to this place. He needed to learn that he couldn't just do that to people.

She had finished the apples and her hair was mostly dry. She pulled it back into a ponytail, her own schoolgirl version of girding her loins. She stood, shaking her skirts out and straightening the layers. Time to go forth into battle.

It was the third door, unopened, that she strode toward, that door that she cracked and peered through. She slipped into the long hallway that it revealed, nervous but determined. It was tall and narrow, light pouring in through diamond-paned clerestory windows on one side. There were a few other doors in sight, but they were firmly shut. She didn't open them. The atmosphere was one of unbroken serenity and dust lay thick in the corners. Life rarely visited this corridor.

To her left, the hall merely ended. To her right it turned a corner. Sarah went right, feeling as though she had yet another Labyrinth to solve. More doors, another straight and quiet passage. Where were all the goblins? It took her almost five minutes to walk to the end. She turned left this time, and there was a wide staircase. A tall window decorated the landing, lancet-shaped but huge. It was filled with stained glass: the scene showed a slim, dark-haired girl holding something. A maze winded around her feet.

It looked very, very old. Sarah was disturbed.

She moved quickly on.

When the girl reached the bottom of the stairs, she finally heard a sound that she hadn't made herself. There was a light pinging behind her. Turning around, she saw a small crystal come bouncing down the staircase; it starting rolling when it hit the floor beside her. Sarah made a face but followed it. Improbably, it rolled around a corner and stopped in front of a doorway. This one had a carved goblin head at its center and leaves making a border around it. Looking down, Sarah saw that the crystal disappeared. She knocked at the door with a sigh. It opened silently. She would have liked to slam it.

"There you are," said a masculine voice. Jareth sat behind a desk, the wood darkened with age. He was leaning back in a chair, feet propped up on the tabletop and a sheaf of papers in his hand. A fireplace took up much of one wall, but the rest were lined with full bookshelves. A rug patterned in blue and maroon lay on the floor. An armchair occupied the space in front of the fireplace, but a couple of smaller chairs sat in front of the desk. Sarah did not sit down.

"Here I am," she repeated sharply. "Since you have so kindly prevented me from going anywhere else."

"I trust you will forgive the inconvenience. Did you rest well?"

Sarah ground her teeth. She hated how blithely he ignored her anger. There was a glass paperweight on his desk—it would be so lovely to throw it in his smirking face.

He caught it neatly before it hit him.

"_That_ is exactly why you're here," he said chidingly.

"So I can give you a concussion?" Sarah asked in a mock-hopeful voice. Jareth snorted.

"How would you like it if, someday, you were being scolded by your employer and the ceiling came crashing down on his head? Or on one of your teachers? What if you killed them?"

Sarah had no response to that.

"Here we are, then. If you can, please try to put aside your contempt for a time. I will attempt to be civil. Will you agree to that? Temporarily, at least?" His voice turned sober and he held her gaze. After a long pause, Sarah nodded curtly. He waved his hand at a chair and she sat down. The king swung his feet off of the desk and scooted closer to her, sitting up straight. He steepled his hands in front of him.

"Can you make anything happen on purpose?" he asked. Sarah shook her head. He nodded.

"Once you learn to make the power come at command, you can prevent it from doing anything unexpected. It's just a matter of muscle control, if you will, like learning to raise one eyebrow at a time."

He made it sound so simple. Sarah frowned.

"How do I do that?"

"Practice. First, you must find the place in you where your magic lies. It seems to rise in response to emotions—can you remember feeling anything when you started that fire, for example, that was more than simple rage? You've felt anger many times, but you don't always burn things."

Jareth's voice and face had turned serious, an almost abstracted look in his eyes. This was the scholar-Jareth, then, that she had glimpsed the night before, emptied of mischief. She felt more comfortable around this person who didn't bait her endlessly; she answered more candidly.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "When I got stuck in the hazy lands, it was like a switch was flipped in my head. Like something just turned on."

"Can you duplicate the feeling?"

"...maybe." She considered this. "I don't know what would happen, though."

He looked around and fixed his eyes on a candelabra perched on his desk. Jareth picked it up and placed it in the fireplace before sitting back down.

"Try to light the candles."

"Why the fireplace?"

"Just in case you explode it instead." He grinned broadly before flickering back into the scholar. Sarah shifted uneasily.

"Okay. I'll... try." She closed her eyes and tried to remember the other times she had used her magic. There was the regular feeling of anger, or fear, or happiness. The emotion had welled up inside of her like rising water, until it nudged something at the very heart of her... prodded it, waking it, urging it on. And the feeling had touched... right... there....

She jerked upright as something suddenly fizzed and she directed it instinctively toward the candelabra. All six candles burst into flame simultaneously—and literally _burst_, tall and bright, immediately melting each one down to half its size. Sarah gasped, hands clutching at the arms of her chair.

Jareth burst into a peal of hearty laughter, bright and full of true surprised delight. It was a startlingly appealing sound, for all that it was directed at Sarah herself. She shook herself and stared at him.

"What?" she squeaked, disconcerted. "That was _not _funny."

He wiped his eyes, still shaking slightly. "I do not know what I have done," he pronounced wryly. "I do not know what _you_ have done."

"What does that mean?" she asked edgily.

"It means that you are a creature unique in the world." He sighed and became serious again. "I suppose that you found the right spot. Do you remember it?"

"Yes," she said after a moment's thought. "Yes, I do."

"Good. Firstly, then, I would ask that you not practice on your own. You might pull the castle down around you--" an ugly frown at that "--as you have already done, partially, in the past. Which I do not appreciate. Secondly, I think it would be best that you learn to form crystals next. They will... contain... any spell until used, which should prevent any dangerous flare-ups. Any unexpected magic can be dissolved."

"How long will that take?" she asked. He raised his eyebrows.

"As long as it takes. We will have to find more clothing for you—I doubt that Meggedy would be willing to loan you the rest of hers."

"Meggedy?"

"One of my subjects, and the only one roughly your size and shape. New clothes could be prepared in a week, at most." He said this musingly. Sarah's jaw dropped.

"I _cannot _stay here for a week! My parents will think I've been kidnapped, which, incidentally, I have been!"

"Don't be difficult. A week is nothing. If you're lucky, it will take you most of that to form a good crystal. It will take much longer to school you fully."

"No."

"No?" asked Jareth dangerously. "I don't think you're in a position to be saying 'no' to anything."

"Send me home. I'll survive. If I don't, it's none of your concern." Sarah spoke with all the bravado of a wronged and furious teenager, and a brashness that had always been her own. She had never responded well to autocracy.

"You little brat, it is entirely my concern," he said sharply. "You will stay here if I say so, which I do. _I_ am the ruler of this land, and I will not be defied in my own library. I don't care what your precious parents worry about you; if you act like this at home, perhaps they'll be grateful for your absence."

Sarah was so angry that she couldn't speak. Tears pricked at her eyes but would not fall. She staunchly avoided the tender area of her mind that produced fire and flowers. Jareth stared at her fiercely, sucked in a deep breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He closed his eyes.

"You can go to your chamber, now," he said in a level voice. "I will not have you wandering about and getting into trouble. A meal will be sent up to you. Later this afternoon, a seamstress will come and take your measure. After that, perhaps, we will have another lesson, though the gods know that we may not survive it. Somehow we always manage to prod each other into a murderous rage. It can't be healthy for either one of us.

He opened his eyes again. Sarah opened her mouth, as if to argue, but he shot her a venomous look.

"_Go_," he spat, "Since you so hate being here."

She went. She walked very quickly out the door and back up the stairs, past the stained glass and down the halls. She broke into a run at the final stretch, fleeing into her own quiet room. She shut the door gently behind herself.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: Well, that took awhile, but finally done. More actual plot next chapter, I think, which hopefully will be out soon. Definitely more Sarah/Jareth action! Perhaps they'll start to get along better. Meanwhile, thank you once again to the reviewers, new and old: **Mystic Catface, Aowyn, Kathleen, draegon-fire, Velf, Amazonian21, BOWIEgirl, Moonjava, Cyber Keiko, CrimsonSympathy, Tellergirl, Lhiata, Alissa7, and Cariah Delonne.** Comments, compliments, constructive criticism are much appreciated. Yes, I'm a feedback slut. Hopefully people enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it.


	9. Underground

Chapter Nine: Underground

Years and years had passed since Sarah had last been sent to her room. Adding insult to injury, she supposed. She was so _tired_ of being angry. It took far too much energy to keep up perpetually.

She threw herself onto the bed, back first, sinking in instead of bouncing. _Feather mattress, _she thought. _Very nice_. The girl turned her head to look out the window. The sky was blue and clouds were floating by lazily. It would have felt like any normal spring Saturday if it weren't for the stone room, the archaic clothing, and the giant maze outside. And the discontent roiling in her stomach. Jareth, intentionally or not, had hit her where it hurt; the tears she had smothered rose again, trickling slowly down her cheeks.

_They will care, _she assured herself. _Dad and Toby and even Karen. Maybe, after awhile, they'll call Mom and Jeremy too. Surely even Mom would care, if I suddenly disappeared. I mean, we're getting along better. She hasn't called or anything since I left New York, but they were going to go on a honeymoon. Probably she would have called in a week or two. _Except that she wouldn't be there to get any call, now. Oh, who was she kidding. Linda wasn't going to call her for months, if then. But she would still _care..._

Why did the Goblin King have the power to make her doubt herself like this? Why did it ever matter what he said?

_Why can't he just be an agreeable person for once? Is it really that hard?_ Sure, she had started the yelling, but he was the one who kidnapped her. _Of course, I asked for help_. But she wouldn't have needed help if he hadn't saddled her with magic in the first place. Which still went unexplained. And he stole Toby, which was definitely not a nice thing to do. _Though I did ask him to. But I didn't mean it. I didn't know it would work_. He didn't have to tease her and... and... torture her and humiliate her while she was running the Labyrinth. He didn't have to send the Cleaners after her, or give Hoggle the poisoned peach. It really wasn't necessary to stick her in that stupid, embarrassing, cruel dream. And at the end, he didn't have to offer her... _everything._ And she wouldn't have felt tempted, just... for... a... moment...

Sarah flipped over and buried her face in the pillows, concentrating on the smoothness of the fabric against her burning face.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" she whispered fiercely, squeezing her eyes closed. How uncomfortable, that he should know to offer just what she would want. Uncomfortable that sometimes she felt a twinge of regret when she thought of the End. Most uncomfortable because she knew that he knew that at one time... she wanted him and what he had to give. _Like your worst enemy from school finding out that you once had a crush on him. _Except worse, because Jareth was no middle school bully.

This was the problem. Try as she might, she couldn't get around it.

Sarah might have fallen asleep, or perhaps she was just lost in thought. She was certainly jarred out of any trance-like state by a swift knock on her door. After sliding off the bed blearily, she walked to the door and cracked it open. An unfamiliar goblin, bigger than most, was holding a tray awkwardly.

"Food!" it squawked, holding up towards Sarah. The girl grabbed it out of its unsteady hands and nodded her head.

"Thanks," she said uncertainly. It bobbed up and down and then scampered away quickly. Odd creatures, goblins. Sarah couldn't remember them being this twitchy last time. The door swung shut with a nudge of her hip; she set the tray down on her spindly table.

A folded piece of parchment lay on top of a covered dish. Sarah made a sour noise and unfolded it. There was one spidery word written across it.

"Truce."

Huh. Right.

She uncovered the dish and smiled slightly. A slice of meat and a slice of cheese had been placed between two hunks of brown bread, with a bit of lettuce stuck in for good measure. Ugly but recognizable. A sandwich assembled by someone who had never seen one before; the Goblin King must have told his cook what to make. Well. He was trying; Sarah guessed that this was as much of an apology as she would ever get. Maybe he was tired of being angry all the time too.

The sandwich was accompanied by a bowl of savory vegetable soup and a mug of apple cider. The scent wafted across the girl's face and all the sudden she was ravenous. She realized that she hadn't eaten more than two apples in who-knows-how-long—maybe that empty feeling in her stomach was more than just ill temper.

Food helped. Food definitely helped. By the time Sarah finished, her head was clearer and steadier. _I can deal with this. I can deal with this. So I'm in the Labyrinth. Well. I've been here before._

Sarah was gazing out of the window, composed, when she next heard a knock on her door. _The dressmaker_, she guessed, vaguely picturing a warty green goblin woman, perhaps with a kerchief over her head. She opened the door less hesitantly this time, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she got a look at the person standing in front of her.

"Ma'am?" asked the person anxiously. Sarah blinked.

It was a girl, maybe her own age, with an honest face and a sprinkling of freckles across her upturned nose. Her hair was a nut brown profusion of curls and her eyes were a deep green. She smiled at Sarah softly, a little unsure, but genuinely. The girl held a covered basket.

"I'm Meggedy," she announced brightly. "I've come to measure you for clothes." She paused a beat. "I'm loaning you a dress for now, too."

"Oh!" exclaimed Sarah weakly. "Yes, thank you, I hope you don't mind... and it's Sarah, not ma'am. Um. Come in."

Sarah stepped aside hastily and closed the door behind Meggedy. The girl set her basket down on a chair and started searching through it.

"Sarah, then. It's no bother," she said as she rummaged. "I'm not about to refuse His Majesty anything, as it is. He takes so little notice of us that we're frightened half out of our wits when he shows his face in the Otherwood."

"I'm sorry, I don't follow," Sarah replied. Meggedy extracted a length of brown string from the basket and brandished it triumphantly.

"Which part?"

"The Otherwood?"

"It's where I live, me and the other foundlings. And Addie Otherwood. Come over here if you don't mind, so I can start. Lift up your arms, please."

Meggedy wrapped the string around Sarah's waist, unwrapped it, and made a knot where the ends had met. Then she moved on to the other measurements, leaving Sarah feeling more than a little foolish.

"Who are the foundlings?" asked Sarah. Meggedy spoke as she worked.

"We're the children who got left, or at least the recent ones. We tend to wander off when we grow up, either to other parts of the kingdom or to other kingdoms entirely. Me, I'd rather stay here. It's home."

"You're..." Sarah thought this through. "You're one of the children who've been wished away?"

"Exactly."

"But I thought that Jareth turned them into goblins!"

"Certainly not." Meggedy looked scandalized, eyebrows raised high. "They multiply like rats on their own. Don't need any help from His Majesty. There, done."

Sarah let her arms flop back down to her sides, bewildered all over again.

"So you're human?" she said timidly. Meggedy grinned and lifted her skirts slightly.

" Mum was human, but my Da sure wasn't." Sarah looked down and swallowed a gasp when she saw cloven hooves peeping from under the hem of the other girl's skirt. "Mum wished me away when I couldn't pass. Or at least that's what Addie told me. I was just a babe when I came here. Guess they don't have my kind up in the Aboveground."

"No, not generally," said Sarah. She watched as the other girl lifted more supplies out of the basket. "What's that?"

"I'm going to measure you for shoes too," she explained. Sarah shifted in the flip-flops she was currently wearing, a wry expression on her face. "You'll need slippers, and perhaps a pair of boots. Here, slip off those things and stick out a foot."

Sarah complied, still vaguely uncomfortable. She was used to picking clothes and shoes out of department stores, not having people making things to order. This was a little too close to servitude for her middle-class American sensibilities.

"I suppose you came here without much of your own," commented the foundling obliquely. "His Majesty told us to hurry, so everything should be done in a few days. I can lend you more clothes until then, if you don't mind such plain things." She looked at Sarah a but sideways, a thoughtful but guarded look. "They may not be fitting to your station."

"If I have a station, I'm not aware of it." Sarah's voice was dry.

"Well, we're all a bit confused," spoke Meggedy hurriedly, not meeting Sarah's eyes. "We're not sure what to think because, well, His Majesty never brings his, you know, back here, not since I've been around..."

"I'm not his mistress!" exclaimed Sarah, startled, face flushing crimson. The foundling girl's mouth formed an 'o', her skin turning red in mortification as well.

"That's not—I mean—I didn't mean it!" she protested. "I just didn't know—Oh, please, don't be offended. It's just that you appeared so suddenly. Why, if it didn't sound half-mad, we would have thought you eloped together. He's taken such notice of you. He doesn't take much notice of _anyone_." She halted as Sarah's face turned even redder.

"No," she replied in a strangled voice. "There is _nothing_ like that between me and Jareth."

"...you do speak of him very familiarly."

"I think I've earned it, after beating his stupid game."

Meggedy stiffened, dropped Sarah's foot, and stood up again. She studied her face very closely before drawing in a deep breath.

"Then you're that Sarah!" Her voice was soft with awe. "You're the human that solved the Labyrinth.

"I'm afraid so."

"That explains a lot... I think." The foundling bit her lower lip thoughtfully, brows drawing together. "Or maybe not. I _have _to tell Addie when I get back. She'll want to know." Then, shyly, "Why are you back?"

Sarah considered the possible answers, weighing the pros and cons of each. She decided on the diplomatic route.

"I'm Jareth's apprentice," she said simply. It was true enough.

"Apprentice," the other girl repeated in a whisper. "Addie will definitely want to know. I'll run back home now, since I'm done measuring. I'll bring your things when they're ready. But, oh, I almost forgot." She bent over her basket again, bringing out a neatly tied parcel. "Here—clothes for tomorrow, underthings, and night clothes. That should do until you have your own wardrobe."

Sarah took it from her, feeling guilty. "I don't want to be a burden," she said.

"Not at all! We're given wages for our work, but you've also given me the best piece of gossip that the kingdom's seen since... since..." Meggedy waved her arms expansively in the air. "Since you were last here! But I should go now. Good day, then." She curtsied swiftly, picked up her much lighter basket, and went barreling out the door. Sarah was left behind in the once-again silent room, which seemed much emptier now that it was rid of Meggedy's boisterous presence. She and Dinah could have been sisters, not counting the foundling's satyr legs. She wondered whether or not there were horns hidden in Meggedy's mass of hair.

Lunch, check. Fitting, check. Next order of business: another lesson with Jareth. Or so he said. Until then... Sarah could sit back and twiddle her thumbs.

"Surely this place has a swimming pool somewhere," she muttered to herself to fill the quiet. "Or an arcade. Maybe a karaoke bar."

But probably not. She sighed. She flopped back onto the bed. She stared at the ceiling. She cataloged the furniture in the room: the canopied bed, the couch, the small table, the two chairs. A wardrobe. Did a fireplace count as furniture? Sarah didn't think so. There was also a chest at the foot of the bed.

She got up, walked down to the odd bathroom, used the facilities and marveled at the odd fixtures. She caught a glimpse of herself in the foggy mirror and stopped to look more closely. A thin girl stared back at her, average height, with dark hair slipping out of a ponytail. Her eyes were tired and her face pale, where it floated above her green gown. With her flip-flops hidden under her skirt, she looked entirely at home in this setting. Strange, that it took little more than a length of cloth to remove her from herself. Isn't that what she had tried to do so often in her youth, donning a white dress to turn into a princess? Sarah wasn't quite resemble a princess now—more like a chambermaid. Now, the change wasn't so welcome. She had only just settled into life as a normal person. A normal Abovegrounder.

Maybe, at least a little bit, that was what was bothering her so much. It had taken so much effort to throw away her childhood daydreams and conform. Then along came the Goblin King, with all his cryptic pronouncements, turning her world upside down again. The thought plagued her.

_How can I learn to be happy in the real world if keeps throwing... this... into my face?_

Sarah fled from the mirror, climbing back up the stairs. She was feeling defiant. If she was going to be held here, she decided, she wasn't going to let Jareth dictate her life. Sarah was bored. She was going to go look for him. Might as well get it over with.

Down the hallway, turn, down the next one too. There was the luminous stained glass window splashing the stairs with color; she walked past it quickly, striding purposefully toward her destination. Here was the corridor that held Jareth's study. She could remember the door without a crystal's help.

Feeling particularly courageous, she pushed the door open without knocking. Jareth was there as she had hoped, chair tilted back and feet on desk, writing something and looking harried. His head rose when he heard Sarah come in.

"Teach me," she said abruptly. He narrowed his eyes at her distrustfully.

"What brought about this change in attitude?"

"You're not the boss of me. You can't just send me to my room. I have absolutely nothing to do. So teach me. Isn't that the point?"

"You are are a contrary creature," he said after a pause, eyes still narrowed. "I do have other work to do."

"Can it wait?"

They looked at each other across the table. Sarah didn't let her eyes waver, even under his measuring gaze. He stood up and put the papers down.

"No doubt," he replied. "But if the marsh lights stage an uprising against the swamp trolls, I am putting you in charge of arbitrating the squabble."

"What would make marsh lights angry?"

"The trolls capture them in jars and use them as lights at night. I'm sure it's not a pleasant experience. The trolls smell absolutely awful."

This was said in a glib, deadpan tone, but Sarah thought she could pick out a thread of humor in his voice, and in the quirk of an eyebrow. She released tension she didn't know she was holding.

"So how do I form a crystal? I want to get back to reality as soon as possible."

"This place is just as real as your home is," Jareth said with a furrowing of his brow. "But I won't mar your rare good mood by contradicting you. To form a crystal, you must do a few things."

He stretched out a hand and a round crystal formed in his palm. He threw it lightly in the air, where it became a butterfly, flew to the ceiling, and collapsed into a cloud of glitter. Sarah tried to hide her interest as she watched it.."They usually have to contain a spell, but that is more complicated. Right now, I'll just show you how to make an empty one."

He formed another crystal and walked across the room to Sarah.

"Hold out your hand," he commanded. She stretched out her right arm hesitantly and he dumped the crystal onto her palm. She jumped slightly but didn't drop it. Sarah looked at it uneasily.

"It's not going to bite," Jareth said chidingly. "This one's empty. Roll it around, toss it in the air, whatever. Familiarize yourself with it, so you can remember what they feel like."

It was heavier than she had expected, as if made of glass, but not uncomfortably so. The surface was cool where it rested against her skin, and smooth. She held it closer to her face and looked inside. It wasn't transparent. There was shimmering trapped inside. Sarah passed it to her left hand and then back.

"Alright," she said. "Now what?"

"Now what, she says," he repeated with a shake of his head. "Fine. Put it in your left hand and hold out your right again. You are right-handed, correct?"

"Yes." She moved the crystal.

"Then just imagine that you're holding one in your right hand."

"What?" asked the girl incredulously. "That's all?"

"It's harder than it seems. I'd suggest closing your eyes for now; sight confuses things. Don't try to tap into your magic. Just think of the feeling of the crystal in your hand."

Sarah closed her eyes and flexed the fingers of her left hand around the crystal. She tried to remember the weight and heft of it in her right hand, imagine the cool surface on her right palm instead of her left. She thought about it until her skin itched, but when she hoped her eyes nothing had happened.

"I can't do it," Sarah said, disappointed and a little affronted. Jareth shook his head.

"You're trying to hard, Sarah. Relax. Just expect it to be there."

She did a mental sigh and closed her eyes again. Breathe in, breathe out. _Ohm_, she thought, smiling to herself. _Alright. I am holding a crystal in my hand. It is heavier than it looks. Like a glass ball. It fits snugly in my palm and is full of shimmering possibility. _She pictured herself twirled it around in her hand like Jareth, or throwing it into the air and seeing sparkles shower downward. Jerking her hand slightly upward, she made an involuntary noise when something shifted. Sarah opened her eyes quickly and looked down.

There was definitely something in her hand. It could hardly be called a crystal, though. She groaned.

"My god," she said in disgust. "It's horrible."

Jareth peered down at it speculatively. "It's progress. You can't expect to do everything perfectly on the first try."

The thing resting in her hand was smooth but cloudy, as if it had been smudged by many dirty fingers. It was almost the right size, but the surface collapsed inward in some spots, leaving it dimpled. Sarah poked it with one finger and the side pushed in further. It had the consistency of warm plastic, solid but flexible. She could have squashed it flat with one hand.

She set both crystals, Jareth's and her own, down on the desk.

"It's promising," commented the Goblin King, surveying it with his hands on his hips. Sarah snorted. His lips twitched slightly.

"Don't you dare laugh at me!" she warned.

"I'm not laughing, I swear." He held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "Why don't you try again?"

She did. She tried and tried again, each one more of less a variation of the first one. Once the crystal had the right shine to it, but it was even thinner-skinned than her first one. Another one was hard and smooth, but it was as delicate as an eggshell. Jareth had her sit down in one of the chairs after the fifth attempt, while he watched from behind his desk. An hour later, he was leaning against one propped up arm and Sarah had slid halfway down in her chair.

"This is still not working," the girl proclaimed after the tenth failure. She threw it down onto the desk, where the other nine sat besides Jareth's perfect crystal. She glowered at it half-heartedly, too tired and hungry to do more. This stuff was harder than it looked.

"You've been doing this for, what, an hour or two? It takes most children of the Fair Folk days to summon power on their command. You've been doing it effortlessly."

"If only it would do what I tell it to," she replied dourly, ignoring the compliment implied.

"Not a perfectionist," muttered the king under his breath. She glared at him.

"I'm not a perfectionist. I just want to figure this out so I can go home."

"So you've said. Unfortunately, it will have to wait for another day. I declare this session ended."

Sarah pushed herself back up with the arms of the chair, swiftly. "What? Just let me do a few more."

"Definitely not. You have to build up your endurance with magic, just like running long distances. I don't want you to wear yourself out the first day." His eyes strayed down to the row of crystals. "Take the one I made back up to your room with you. Just hold it, look at it, study it until tomorrow. You have to know something very well before you can conjure it, at least at your skill level."

Sarah wanted to argue, really she did, but it seemed like far too much trouble. A nap on her feather mattress sounded very tempting. She sighed noisily, as if to let Jareth know that she was caving in against her will, and stood slowly.

"Do I really need to be confined to my room?" she asked doubtfully. Jareth thought a moment.

"No, not as long as you don't do anything stupid. Don't leave the castle, don't enter the Labyrinth. Don't get yourself lost. There is a courtyard garden within the castle itself; you can go there, if you can find the way yourself." He glanced at the clock sitting on one of the bookshelves. It was 4 o'clock, though Sarah wasn't exactly sure what that meant in a 26-hour long day. "Dinner is usually served at 7 o'clock. If you are still feeling amiable then, you can come back down here. If not..." He smiled. "Maybe you'll get lucky and find the kitchen."

"I can feel my amiability slipping away this very moment," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You mean, I can eat with you or not at all? What is this, _Beauty and the Beast_? Is there a talking tea pot around here somewhere?"

Jareth had an amused expression affixed on his face. "Sarcasm doesn't become you, Sarah."

"I can get a lot more unpleasant than this, I promise."

"I know. How about this deal, then: when I am teaching you, we will both make an effort to be friendly and sociable people. That describes neither of us, I think, but we will try. Outside of this room, you can abuse me as you want. Alright?"

Sarah considered this a moment. It seemed fair enough.

"Alright."

"You can go, then. Enjoy your afternoon and don't get into trouble."

Sarah grabbed the single good crystal from the desk and froze a moment.

"My parents will notice I'm gone. They won't just forget about me," she said soberly.

"...no, they won't," he agreed slowly, almost reluctantly. "You're not an easy person to forget."

She nodded her head sharply, accepting this almost-apology. On a bizarre impulse, she stuck her tongue out at him. Then she swept out the door with as much dignity in her posture as she could manage. Her footsteps took her back up to her room, where she could here the bed call her name. Exploration could wait until later.

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A/N: Another one ended. Since it's a three-day weekend and I know where the next chapter is going, there _might _be another one out on Monday or Tuesday. But I also have to write a paper on Tess of the D'Urbervilles, so we'll see. Anyways, thank you to **Velf, Acantha Mardivey, tellergirl, Moonjava, Amazonian21, draegon-fire, musicgirl141, Kathleen, Alissa7, tabbicat 12, Bex Drake, and Anon. **To answer your question, **Alissa7**: yeah, Jeremy had a lot of trouble, but he's kind of like the one tone-deaf kid in a family of musicians. It's not that he just had a hard time learning magic, but he had pretty much no aptitude for it at all. That's the reason that he went to the Aboveground instead of staying home; he doesn't feel so much like a loser in the human world. ;-) I don't want Sarah to have a very easy time learning magic, but she definitely has more power and talent than he has, thanks to Jareth's gift. Hopefully that explanation helps.


	10. Said the Spider to the Fly

Chapter Ten: Said the Spider to the Fly

She ate dinner with the Goblin King that night, bleary-eyed from sleep and awkward. It was a silent affair; she lingered long enough to gobble up her food and rushed off as soon as possible. She had the feeling that Jareth was laughing inside as she left, but she didn't stop to look for a glint in his uneven eyes.

The next morning was another lesson. She summoned maimed and malformed crystals until she could take no more; Jareth sent her off. That afternoon, he handed her a dusty and musty tome and lectured her on theory. He told her of conjuration, illusion, divination, necromancy, and enchantment. There were others, but the names didn't stick in her brain. His own specialties, he told her, were illusion, conjuration, and enchantment. Sarah wasn't particularly surprised.

The third day, she felt something of a routine develop. More studying—and towards the end of the morning, Sarah created one perfectly formed crystal, clear and beautiful. She whooped loudly and jumped up out of her chair. Jareth clapped slowly and muttered "Thank the gods" aloud. Sarah was too pleased with herself to glare at him.

"So what do I do now?" she asked happily, trying to stifle the grin on her face.

"I think we should hold off on crystals for awhile," he said musingly. "I can show you a few cantrips that don't require them. Like lighting candles—a little less ferociously than you already do," he added when Sarah rolled her eyes. "How to call an object to your hand, as well. Now what area of magic would that be?"

"Conjuration?" she asked hopefully. Jareth shook his head.

"It's actually a more miscellaneous skill. Not everything belongs to a category. Conjuration would involve summoning something from another plane, or to create it purely from your own power."

"So would I use conjuration to transport myself back home?"

"A sort of backwards conjuration, yes. You'd be summoning yourself to another place—or summoning a place to you. But," he said with a stern look, "don't you dare try it. If you're idiotic enough to get stuck between worlds again, I'm not going to come fetch you."

"Harsh," she said lightly, not really believing him. Odd, that she should trust him like that, but she did.

They started on the rudiments of moving an object without touching it; Sarah got a book to hover midair for a few seconds, but little beyond that. She couldn't wait until the day that she could lob rocks at Jareth's head without exerting herself. It sounded like a lovely diversion.

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The sorceress-in-training had hardly finished her lunch when Meggedy made her second visit, bearing an armful of gifts. She was flanked by a couple of helpers, children with shy smiles. One looked human and one did not at all; they set down their burdens and ran off before Sarah could speak with them.

"I'm not that frightening, am I?" asked Sarah, eyebrows raised. Meggedy laughed.

"You have an intimidating reputation, you know. But it's not just you, it's the castle. His Majesty scares the children. He can be... grumpy."

"He can be an ass, you mean."

Meggedy squeaked, eyes growing huge. She looked from side to side, as if afraid that Jareth was listening. "Don't say that!" she exclaimed.

"Don't worry, it's nothing new. I swear at him to his face all the time, and he says that I'm free to curse at him as much I like when he's not teaching me."

"He must like you," Meggedy said, shaking her head in amazement. "Anyone else, he'd drown in the Swamp of Eternal Stench. Or worse. Feed to the cave trolls, or drop in an oubliette."

Sarah blinked at this assessment. "I don't think so. I—he can't really do anything to me, that's why. Since I beat the Labyrinth."

The foundling girl shrugged. "Suit yourself. Why don't you look at what I brought over, see if everything is right." She pulled the open the wrappings of one of the three packages on the floor... and Sarah drew in her breath sharply.

Velvet spilled out of the canvas in a wave of midnight blue, revealing gauzy cerulean and silver thread hiding below it. Meggedy pulled at the cloth and it turned into a dark blue gown with a paler shift and metallic embroidery. Another outfit lay underneath, in autumnal shades of brown silk, and then icy green. The girl opened the next package: lavender and dusty blue in brocade, and then deep green and dull gold. Burgundy, almost black, followed by dark gray and cream.

The chamber was spattered with pools of luminous color, a fortune of fabric even in Sarah's machine-run world.

Sarah found that she couldn't quite move or speak. She swallowed heavily and licked dry lips.

"This is all... mine?" Her voice came out tiny and unsure.

"All of it." Meggedy beamed at Sarah and the room. "It was a joy to work with such fine materials. I've never done better work, if I do say so myself."

Sarah searched for words and found none waiting.

"Milady? Are you alright?"

"It's Sarah," she said blankly. "Not milady. I'm just a high school student. Sometimes I'm a babysitter. I'm not a lady."

"Oh," replied Meggedy, sounding like she didn't understand at all. "Is something the matter? Don't you like it?" Her face became anxious and Sarah felt a twinge of guilt.

"No, it's _beautiful_," she assured her, wholeheartedly. "It's absolutely gorgeous. I've never seen, much less worn, this kind of stuff in my life. You and the others must be amazing seamstresses."

"Thank you very much," said the foundling, bobbing her head in an abbreviated curtsy. "I'll be sure to tell everyone else that you said so. I think that you should have enough to serve you well for awhile now; the last package has undergarments and a few nightgowns, ribbons, things for your hair. If you'd like to change now, I could just bring all the borrowed things with me when I leave."

Sarah agreed, still feeling dazed, and Meggedy helped her gather up a gown and shift, petticoats and slippers. She carried it all in an armful down to her little bathroom and changed mechanically, mind whirring distantly—something was bothering her, but she couldn't quite form the conviction into the proper words. Off went the suddenly dowdy borrowed clothes, shed like a snake's skin or a butterfly's cocoon... for the second time that week. The first metamorphosis had left her jeans and tank-top behind.

Finally the change was ended and Sarah shook her new raiment into place. Almost fearfully, she turned to look into the cloudy mirror.

A pale and shining creature stared back at her.

They had picked the lavender and blue brocade; it was high-waisted and low-necked, the top lacing together with ribbon over a gauzy, pale blue underdress. Puffs of blue emerged from slashes on the sleeves and an edge crept above the collar, preserving her modesty. A silver net kept Sarah's hair back and the delicate leather slippers on her feet were tanned pale.

The sister of Toby and daughter of Robert disappeared with her flip-flops and ponytail. In her place was the grandaughter of Angharad Dara and apprentice to the Goblin King.

"'Tis but thy name that is thy enemy," she whispered aloud, an attempt at reassurance. "Thou art thyself, though not a Montague." This didn't make her feel any better. It applied to names, not fabric. _What did Juliet know, anyways, _she thought angrily. _She died at thirteen. _Sarah gathered up the dirty clothes and sped upstairs, nearly tripping on her long skirts twice.

"There—oh!" Meggedy clapped her hands together in glee. "You look like a princess! I think. I've never actually seen a princess, but I don't think they could look any grander."

Sweet girl. Sarah felt affection well up inside her suddenly and she smiled despite her mood.

"You are the nicest person I've ever met," she told her sincerely. The other girl blushed.

"Don't be silly," she replied, looking down and quickly changing the topic. "I put your things away in the wardrobe for you, and got the other dress out."

"Here you go." Sarah handed her bundle to her. "This is the last of it. Thank you a lot. Maybe I'll come visit you and the other children and... Addie Otherwood, is it? It's boring in this old castle."

"You should!" the foundling exclaimed. "I hope you do. I'll run along now, I suppose. Goodbye, mila—good bye, Sarah."

Then Sarah was alone again. Déja vu. She plucked at her skirts aimlessly for a moment, thinking.

_These aren't clothes for someone who's only staying until they get their magic under control. These are permanent clothes. These are stay-here-forever clothes. _

That was the unsettling thing, or at least the only unsettling thing that Sarah could put a name to. She decided that she better have a talk with Jareth. Soon. Right now, in fact.

She was out the door immediately; on a whim, she gathered her skirts up and ran, enjoying the feeling of the air blowing past her and the cloth billowing around her legs. _Down the corridors, down the stairs, skid to a stop in front of the door._ She pushed it open and stuck her head inside; it was dark and empty. Hmm. That was a first. Where would he be? She looked further down that hallway, where another staircase was visible at the opposite end. She had never gotten around to exploring. No time like the present.

Outside, the day was overcast, leaving only cold gray light to filter into the castle. It lent the place a foreboding air. It didn't help that Sarah seemed to be alone now—she had never before noticed how _empty_ the castle seemed. Except for the occasional goblin that brought food, or Meggedy, she and Jareth seemed to be the only real inhabitants. She couldn't even hear noise from the Goblin City. It made her wonder where everybody was.

Her slippers made only the softest pat-pat against the stone floor, and her skirts swished very softly. Sarah's breath and heartbeat seemed loud in her ears. Looking around surreptitiously first, she began jogging again, trying to escape the loneliness of the place. She went down the stairs two at a time once she reached them; this set was winding and tall, without any jewel-toned stained glass windows. Dizzy from the quick spinning, she reached the bottom a few minutes later.

A pair of heavy wooden doors barred her way. She pressed her hand against one and it swung open without a sound. Sarah peered through the crack—and felt life sweep over her again. A low murmur, the thrum of many creatures chattering at once, seeped toward her ears from somewhere ahead of her... and a familiar, irritated voice cutting through it. Ah-hah.

_But what's going on?_ Sarah slipped into yet another hallway, turned the corner... and found something she recognized. The throne room of the castle, remembered from her last sojourn in the Labyrinth. This time the room was filled, practically _brimming_, with goblins and other creatures. They lined up against the walls, sat on the floor, and some hung from the walls. There were the normal garden-variety goblins, small and lumpy; bigger creatures, almost like Hoggle but more angular; tiny things that glowed; human-like animals; animal-like people.

She would have liked to just stand, hidden, and watch them. Unfortunately, the congregation spotted her looking around the door frame. The chattering paused and changed its tenor; Jareth stopped his harangue and glanced upward. He was dressed in dark brown and pale gray, sitting on the very edge of the throne, as if he wanted to jump up and start pacing. He froze for a moment after spotting her, just staring; then the harried expression smoothed from his face and he sat up.

"Sarah," he said in a conversational tone, voice carrying clearly across the room. "How convenient. Come up here, if you will." He waved her over and she walked into the room—slowly at first, and then rushing when she felt the watching eyes on her back. She bunched her skirts up in her hands and looked down at the ground, trying not to step on any stray goblin hands or feet. The step up to the dais was something of a relief, until she realized that she would get even more attention while standing next to Jareth.

"Would you like to sit down?" he asked more quietly, still smoothly. Sarah looked at the stone floor and then at the multitudes of goblins milling about. She wrinkled her nose.

"I don't know where this floor's been," she said in disgust. "No way."

"I didn't mean on the floor," he replied, amused. Sarah raised an eyebrow and looked around the room.

"It looks like I could sit on the floor or on your lap. Not gonna do either one." She crossed her arms.

"I could always scoot over," he suggested, mouth almost twitching into a smile. It grew broader when Sarah rolled her eyes at him. "Calm down—here you go."

He formed a crystal with a twist of his hand, threw it onto the ground behind her—and a low chair appeared behind her, one of the spindly variety that populated her own room.

"Show off," she muttered, pulling the chair towards her. She sat down and directed her attention towards the rest of the throne room.

They were all staring forward, silent. All of them.

"Well," said Jareth, rubbing his hands together as he addressed the congregation, "I've finally found something that will create order in these infernal gatherings. Sarah will have to attend more often."

More silence, some shifting. A tiny stone seemed to fall from the ceiling, almost hitting Jareth in the shoulder; Sarah scowled to herself when it missed and Jareth sent her a sideways reproving look.

"Where were we? Lord Fellmarch?"

"Ah, yes, your Majesty," began a small, hissing voice. It came from a ball of light directly in front of the dais, resting on the arm of an agreeable soldier-goblin. Sarah realized that there was a tiny person in the light; not a pixie-fairy, like the ones that Hoggle sprayed, for this one had dragonfly wings and a pale, naked, luminescent body. It was an eerie little creature. "I was saying that my people will not endure such slavery from the trolls any longer. We can and will attack if they do not cease."

"Lies!" yelled a rumbling voice from the other side of the chamber: one of the creatures that vaguely resembled Hoggle. This one was corded with heavy muscle and slightly taller than the others. "The little beasts have been murdering swamp trolls for years! We only take revenge for the deaths."

The room fell into chattering again, while the soldier-goblins kept Lord Fellmarch and the troll away from each other. Jareth sighed and turned towards Sarah.

"This one is all yours, as promised," he said with a smirk. Sarah opened her mouth to ask him what the hell he was talking about, but then her memory lurched into action.

"The marsh lights and swamp trolls?" she asked.

"Are going to war," he finished. "Go ahead, take charge. Have fun. I'll step in if you start making things worse." He leaned back in the throne and crossed his arms over his chest. Sarah's expression was pained.

"This is _your_ kingdom," she responded.

He just watched her.

Sarah took in a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly. She smoothed her skirts. She tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear.

"Lord Fellmarch," she began. "Could you start from the beginning and tell me what your grievance is?"

The little man fluttered his wings and shifted irritably. "My lady. My people live in the marshes at the edge of the Labyrinth, coexisting with the swamp trolls and various other races. It was a fairly amicable relationship until recently. The trolls began to take my subjects captive, imprisoning them in containers to light their way. We have, of course, taken actions to prevent such occurrences, but it has not had any effect. We are here as a last resort before staging a full-scale attack."

"I—what's the troll's name?" she whispered to Jareth.

"Tragdin," he murmured back.

"Thank you, Lord Fellmarch," she said, louder. "Er, Tragdin. What do you have to say about this?"

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_, she thought to herself. But the troll answered readily enough.

"Don't believe a word that the little blighter says," he growled, curling up one impressively-clawed fist. "They're tricksome little bugs. Don't know what in the seven hells 'amicable' is, but we haven't never been friendly. Plenty of times at night, some poor troll or troll-baby is wandering around outside the village, and _they_--" he spat the word, spittle flying from his mouth "--they lead them into the nearest sinkhole they can find. Fuckers."

Sarah was speechless. She sent Jareth a _help, please_ look, but he just grinned at her.

"Lord Fellmarch," she said, thankfully without spluttering, "Is this true?"

The marsh light adjusted his wings, like a bird preening. He didn't meet Sarah's gaze.

"We do not exist for the trolls' convenience. If they choose to follow us, it is none of our affair. We don't try to lead them anywhere, to sinkholes or otherwise. We fly where we please."

"What is this about capturing the marsh lights, Tragdin?" Sarah asked. "You didn't mention that."

"It's bloody dark out there, at night," replied Tragdin. "We figured, a bottled up light won't kill you like a free one. We feed 'em, and all. Just don't let them out. They owe us after all. My sister's kid, he just disappeared one night, after dark. Some light's idea of _fun_."

"I see." Sarah considered this a moment.

"Your Majesty," hissed Fellmarch, addressing Jareth. "I tire of this. I do not relish the light of day. Do you have a judgment for us, or have we your leave to go to war?"

"War is forbidden among my subjects," the Goblin King said severely. "Ask Sarah for your judgment."

_Great, just great._

"My lady?" prompted Tragdin roughly. Sarah's mind raced, but she forced herself to appear calm. She was, after all, an actress.

"I think--" she paused. "I think that both of you have some blame in this argument. Lord Fellmarch, slavery is indeed unjust. But so is leading trolls to their death. Tragdin, capturing the lights hasn't helped at all." Another pause. She had an idea. "So here's my solution. The trolls can no longer imprison the marsh lights."

Fellmarch raised his chin imperiously, obviously pleased with the decision. Tragdin's shoulder slumped.

"That's not all," said Sarah. "Lord Fellmarch, you must command your people not to lead the trolls to unsafe areas. I know you said that they don't do it on purpose; maybe that's true, but you can't confuse them either. If a marsh light sees a troll following it at night, kindly put the troll back onto the proper path, or at least warn it. That much doesn't take much effort. If either of you break this judgment--" she thought a moment before narrowing her eyes and channeling Jareth as well as she could.

"--then perhaps the offender would enjoy taking up residence in the Bog of Eternal Stench. I'm sure that the good Sir Didymus would enjoy company there."

There was a wave of laughter, or cackling, rather, from the rest of the room's occupants. Tragdin nodded seriously, accepting her compromise. Fellmarch looked miffed but didn't protest.

"There you have it," declared Jareth, a broad smile on his face. "I'll support the decision. Now get out, all of you. I've had enough of this for the day. Anyone else with grievances can go bother Castor or wait until next week. Go. Run along." He made a shooing gesture with his hands, still leaning back lazily in his seat. Surprisingly, his subjects began to shuffle out fairly promptly. Fellmarch took to the air and zipped out of the room over the heads of everyone else; Tragdin used his considerable strength to push aside everyone in his way.

After a few minutes, only a few goblins lingered, sitting by the door and giggling to themselves. Jareth sighed loudly and stood up.

"If you are not gone by the time I count to ten, I will pick you all up by your scrawny ears and _toss _you out the door."

They scrambled away with a yelp. Sarah hid a smile.

"Well done," commented Jareth lightly when they were alone. "I particularly liked the threat at the end. The bog is my favorite deterrent."

"I admit that the threat was inspired by you," she said matter-of-factly, a trace of laughter still evident on her face. "I didn't realize that you, er... arbitrated disputes."

"Believe it or not, I do actually rule my kingdom," he replied, deadpan. "As much as I enjoy stealing babies and playing the villain, I have other duties."

"Um. Sorry," she added lamely. This was a first. _God, did I just apologize to him for something? I must not be feeling well_. "So. Thanks for the new clothes and all." She shifted nervously. She had the feeling that she was amusing him again—not that there was anything new about that.

"I can't have you walking about in rags and embarrassing me." Yes, there it was, that predatory almost-smile that didn't quite reveal his pointed teeth.

"They're really nice. Just a bit, you know, fancy for someone who's only staying here until she gets her magic under control. Until I can magic myself back home, like you said."

Wow, that almost-smile did weird things to her stomach.

"Of course. But there's no need to dress like a servant."

"... exactly how long do you think it'll be until I can get myself back home?"

"Hmm. That depends on how quickly you learn. I really couldn't say."

"Oh." Why did she have such a bad feeling about this? What, besides the obvious, was Jareth hiding from her? _I'll figure that out later. Next question, please._

"Well, if I am going to be around for awhile longer, I think I would like to get out of the castle. I want to go visit Abbie Otherwood, and my friends. Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus."

"Since you asked so nicely," still with the hooded eyes and curled mouth, "I suppose. Wait a few days, though."

"Why?"

"As you've noticed, some of my subjects are rather ill-intentioned. No matter what Lord Fellmarch says, his people do enjoy leading the trolls to their deaths. You would be safer if I gave you a signet of some sort, a sign of safe passage. It would also identify you to the Labyrinth itself—the oubliettes and other pitfalls would avoid you."

"Alright. I guess I could wait." She was left with an echoing silence, filling the places where she was used to finding anger.

"Look around the castle if you're feeling bored. I'll see you later this afternoon." Jareth nodded to her, a dismissal, but it was he who wandered off, hands stuck in the pockets of his coat, hips swaying slightly as he sauntered, boots making a faint clip-clop on the stones of the floor. Sarah smiled because the walk was a show—usually he would just disappear in a whoosh of displaced air. She smiled because Jareth was Jareth, an arrogant, egotistical, somewhat-conceited bastard.

She wasn't nearly as vexed as she should have been, considering the conversation. She should have been worried about being imprisoned here. But in the quiet dusty throne room, alone, Sarah couldn't quite dig up enough energy to freak out. It was painful to admit, but with nothing at stake... she kind... of... liked... it... here. Oops. Surely that wasn't allowed.

Walking towards the door, a scrap of a poem floated to the top of Sarah's mind. She suddenly had a name for the expression in Jareth's eyes.

_Come in to my parlor, said the spider to the fly..._

By the end of the week, Sarah was lighting candles and lifting books off of shelves.

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A/N: Okay, I lied, I didn't get this one out very fast. I apologize. I guess a chapter a week is a good speed for me. Thank you reviewers: **Velf**( good guess, but you may be surprised)**, Moonjava, Acantha Mardivey, Bex Drake, draegon-fire, **and **Give-Me-Your-Coffee**(hee hee, like your name!). As I've said before, I lurve reviews. Stay tuned for the next episode: Sarah ventures outside! We learn the history of the Labyrinth! Perhaps a meeting with Abbie Otherwood, caretaker of the foundlings! Jareth puts the moves on Sarah! Okay, probably joking about the last one. Probably. Bye-bye for now.


	11. Just a Little Girl with Gray Eyes

Chapter Eleven: Just a Little Girl with Gray Eyes

It was mid-morning on Sarah's ninth day in the Labyrinth. She was sitting in a low chair in Jareth's study, contemplating this fact. She was alone; Jareth, for the first time, had chosen to be late to their session. Very irritating.

So. Nine days. She felt like she was on vacation—days passed and she did things, but she never really felt the flow of time. Kind of like summer break. She was doing work, true, by learning magic, but it wasn't nearly as tedious as real schoolwork. _Probably I'll be screwed when I finally get back home, homework-wise... good thing I've already been accepted to NYU._

Of course, this was all assuming that they didn't lock her up in the loony-bin when she tried to explain where she'd been all this time. _Hmm. I should probably stick as close to the truth as possible. This guy, a friend of my step-father's, showed up at the park one night and kidnapped me. Um. He took my to a house somewhere and. Er. Tried to teach me all this magic stuff? Like, he must have been crazy? What does he look like, you ask? Blond, definitely. Where was the house? I don't really remember. Don't know how I got back, either._

Okay, so the story was thin. Chances were they'd never catch Jareth, so it didn't really matter what she said about him. Jeremy would probably realize what happened, but Jareth deserved anything he got from Jeremy. It wasn't like her stepfather was any kind of threat, as far as magic was concerned.

This train of thought occupied her thoroughly; she didn't hear the door creak open, if it opened at all. The Goblin King knew better ways of getting around. As a result, she had no warning of his presence.

"If you answer a question for me, I'll give you a gift," purred a low voice into her ear, lips a hair away from brushing her earlobe. She jumped a couple of centimeters into the air, taken completely offguard. A combination of warm air and sound waves tickled along the skin of her neck. Sarah simultaneously felt her jaw drop and her stomach turn inside out. _Erk._

"It depends on the question," she managed to reply, mind on autopilot, trying to ignore the breathiness in her voice. Jareth sauntered over to his desk and sat down, giving her time to gather her wits. He _lounged_ across the chair, rather than sitting like a normal person. Today he was dressed all in black, a striking contrast against his pale skin and hair. Villain-mode.

_Holy crap. What's with this? Just Jareth being Jareth? _Her brain was beginning to function again.

"Indeed," he said in a voice that was more conversational and less... _Dead-sexy. Orgasmic. Er. Shit. Bad me. Crap. I just need to stop thinking now._

"So what was the question?" Sarah asked, watching him closely. Jareth returned her gaze innocently, his face a pleasant mask.

"I was trying to decide what to teach you next. Putting spells into crystals would be the logical step. It would be easier if you used a form of magic that comes most... naturally to you."

"That's not a question." She wasn't going to give him an inch. She was annoyed. _Perturbed. Definitely perturbed._

"I'm getting to that. So we might learn what you are talented in, could you please list all the times that you've used your power unwittingly?"

Sarah was feeling ornery. She crossed her arms.

"Please?"

"Dream-walking, or whatever you call it,was first," she said shortly. "Then... at Mom and Jeremy's reception, I made the centerpiece candle flare up. When I was eating lunch at school, I accidentally shot a bolt of energy, or something, at Aar—at one of my friends. The same week, I set a trashcan on fire and summoned a bunch of flowers. Then I got stuck in the Middleground. I've been okay since then."

"Interesting." He tapped his fingers against his leg, contemplating this information. "That's quite a variety of skills. Conjuration, I think, may be a good concentration for you. An elemental link to fire is not out of the question either. You seem to have aptitude for traveling the layers of the world, as well, but that is not something that can be contained inside a crystal."

"So?"

"I'd say that conjuration is a safe beginning. I have no desire to be burned alive today."

"That's too bad. I was looking forward to it."

He looked at her. She looked at him. He smiled slightly. She relented unwillingly.

"What's my reward, then for answering your question?" So sue her, she was curious. Anything offered in that tone of voice was either very good or very scary. Or both.

"Here. As promised." A crystal appeared in Jareth's hand. He tossed it across the room and Sarah caught it, just barely, not expecting the movement. When it touched the skin of her hands, it changed—the glassy surface disappeared in place of metal. A thin gold chain draped across her wrist and a pendant appeared in her fingers.

It was... a necklace. The pendant was a smaller version of Jareth's own; gold and silver formed into an odd shape, not quite triangular. Sarah studied it musingly.

"With that around your neck, you will be free to roam the Labyrinth with impunity. I do warn you, though—it won't prevent you from getting lost."

"Thank you," she said slowly. Sarah traced the contours of the signet with an index finger. "What is this, exactly?"

"A necklace?" asked Jareth, eyebrows raising dramatically and voice sardonic. Sarah scowled at him.

"That's not what I meant. It looks like horns, almost. Or a moon. What is it?"

"Right on the first try. They are horns."

"Why horns?"

"That's a long story." His face seemed to shutter off abruptly, eyes becoming distant. "I doubt you would be interested."

"Sure I would," Sarah replied stoutly. It wasn't entirely out of an urge to make Jareth pay for... surprising... her this morning.

"Well. I don't suppose you know the origins of the word 'labyrinth', do you?" His voice said he very much believed that she did not."

"It's from Greek mythology."

"Yes, but what does it actually _mean_?"

"I don't know," she said defiantly. Jareth let out a breath sharply, not quite a snort but definitely disparaging.

"Translated very roughly, it means 'place of the double-headed axes'."

"And this has to do with horns how...?"

"Be patient, child." Sarah made a face and he ignored her. "It was called that after a tool that the Ancient Minoans used for sacrifices. They were very keen on bulls, you know."

"Oh." Sarah remembered something, thunking herself in the forehead with the palm of her hand. "The Minotaur. Duh. But still... you aren't exactly one to follow convention. Why take your symbol from a myth?"

"It wasn't my choice," he explained frostily. "I inherited it."

"Inherited it? From _who?_ You haven't always been the Goblin King?" This was a new idea for the teenager. She had never considered Jareth's beginnings, or end; he was a constant.

"Always is a very large word. No, I have not always been the Goblin King, though I was the first one. I inherited the pendant, and the Labyrinth, from Minos's sorcerer. A very long time ago."

Sarah's brain feebly tried to compute this. She drew up legs up in the chair to sit cross-legged and leaned forward. "_King Minos?_ The Minotaur's keeper? But that's just a fairy tale!"

_Gak. Drat. _She regretted the words the moment she said them.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, then are dreamt of in your philosophy," Jareth quoted archly. "Very ironic, coming from a girl conversing with the Goblin King."

"I'm the one who's supposed to quote Shakespeare," she muttered, irritated. "Fine. However did the Labyrinth make its way Underground from Crete? And how did you acquire it?"

"Does it matter?"

"_Yes._ Don't you dare not tell me, after saying this much." Sarah sent him the look-of-death that automatically came with two X chromosomes. Sadly, Jareth was immune in this case. Maybe it was a humans-only thing.

"As you wish. I'll start at the beginning to make things less confusing. I guess you've heard the myth before—remember that it is a myth. Some things are true, some are not. I'll tell you the facts of the events."

"Get on with it already."

"Ahem. Everything began, for better or worse, when Minos's wife fooled around with a demon masquerading as a fae. Minos always thought of it as something he did, insulting the gods or whatever. Truthfully, I understand, he was just a pompous ass and Pasiphae was tired of it. So she got pregnant by this demon and bore a child that took after its father. It also had a vicious streak, so Minos built a cage for it on the advice of his ministers. He didn't want to anger the gods farther by killing a member of his family—if only he knew the truth."

"I thought that Pasiphae, er, was impregnated by a bull."

"What did I say?" he asked, shooting her a reproving look. "I promise, it is physically impossible for a bull and a human to have children together. All that wooden cow nonsense it pure fabrication.

"So. Where was I? The child was violent; beside having a cow's head and pointy horns, it had a couple rows of razor-sharp teeth and a taste for flesh. A locked room wasn't enough to hold it, so Minos had the Labyrinth built. It was made of stone, durable, but actually rather small. Confusing but nowhere near the scale of the Labyrinth today. Minos's sorcerer was a mostly-human man named Daedalus. Don't interrupt me," he said suddenly, holding off Sarah's exclamation with an upraised hand. She sat back in her chair, frowning.

"Yes, the real Daedalus was a sorcerer. He infused the stone walls of the Labyrinth with magic in an attempt to contain the growing demonic child. Unfortunately, as clever as he was, his talent alone wasn't enough. At Minos's bidding, he used necromancy to bind wild magic to the Labyrinth walls. He used a blood ritual to summon the magic from the Underground and affix it to the fortifications. A nasty business, but very reliable. Every year he had to sacrifice two children and use their blood in the binding. He kept it up for almost two decades."

Sarah gasped, disgust drawing her lips back in a grimace. "He killed children?"

"Quite. This gave rise to part of the Minotaur myth, if you remember—every year Athens sent young men and women in tribute to Minos?"

"I remember."

"Good. I do have to say, in Daedalus's defense, he was a good man at heart. Minos forced him into the dark magic, using threats to keep him in line. But that is irrelevant at the moment.

"Daedalus controlled the magic of the Labyrinth with the pendant I wear around my neck; it was the key, the focus. He might have kept the Minotaur imprisoned for a very long time if a young man hadn't rendered it unnecessary. With the help of the princess Ariadne, a young man—let us call him Theseus—slew the Minotaur and rescued the captive children before a sacrifice. He sailed away with the princess by his side. Which is where I came in."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really. Daedalus summoned a being from the Underground to retrieve Ariadne... and that being just happened to be me. Minos made a bargain; if I brought Ariadne back, safe, then he would gift me with the Labyrinth. I was young then, with little interest in humans. What did interest me was power; I had noticed it gradually leaking from my homeland. I was pleased to discover why. I accepted the bargain. I found the girl, returned her, and Daedalus gave the pendent to me."

"Dionysus found her in the story. Are you saying that you were somehow equated with a Greek god?" Sarah was disbelieving. Jareth smiled wickedly, an expression that suited him.

"The god of wine, madness, ecstasy, and secrets. I can't think of anyone I'd rather be replaced by."

Sarah could believe that. "So you returned her and got the Labyrinth? That's all?"

"No, it isn't. I took the pendent and broke the bindings that held the wild magic to the Aboveground. It returned to its natural home rather abruptly. Very abruptly." He paused. "It was really quite interesting, from a magician's point of view. The reaction was so violent that Daedalus, woven into the magic for years, was pulled along with it into the Underground. And the wild magic started acting very strangely. Instead of dispersing back into the land, it held the shape that it had held for so many years. Blood magic is that strong, you see. It stayed a maze, and it kept its desire for children."

Sarah twitched in alarm. Jareth shook his head at her, lips curled.

"_No_, I do not murder children, Sarah. Don't even suggest it. There is only a compulsion to take children when they are offered. It's not something that I can help."

"What about the goblins?"

"The goblins migrated here a few centuries later. I would have barred them if I could, but they're like rats. Humans, came, slowly: the children that were sent to me. Eventually the children of Jeremy's race arrived too. Children of other races. Then there were other species who just filtered in over the years, creatures like the marsh lights, the trolls, and your furry lummox of a friend."

"Ludo. His name's Ludo."

"Whatever. Eventually, the Labyrinth became what it is today. It has been growing since its arrival and changing daily. The wild magic still manifests itself."

"What about Daedalus?" Sarah asked curiously.

"He's still around here somewhere, tinkering away at things. He designed the castle's plumbing, not to mention the goblin's mechanical armaments. He has a human's fascination for engineering and science. I'm sure that you would quite delight him, with your knowledge of the modern world."

"He's still alive? But that must have been thousands of years ago. Wait—you must be thousands of years old, too!"

"I'm afraid so." He flashed her a flirtatious smile. "I like to think that I look quite good for my age."

Sarah was quiet, mind a little boggled. She couldn't imagine a life extending hundreds of years, much less a few thousand. Doing the math in her head, she realized that it would be around 4,000 years.

_Yikes._

"So there's the story. Shall we begin with your lesson?"

The girl gaped at him, a bad habit that she was developing. "What? You tell me that the Minotaur actually existed, and you're older than the Roman Empire, and now you want me to concentrate on doing magic? No way. My brain is fried for the day."

"Oh, please. You won't get out of it that way." He stood. "Hold out your hand and produce a crystal. This time, I want you to put magic into it..."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Two agonizing hours later, Sarah had three pears to show for her work. They weren't even good pears; they were dry and tasteless. Damn pears. She retreated to her room and collapsed onto the bed, as was her custom.

She was planning something. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't. Maybe it would backfire horribly. No point in not trying, though.

Sarah was going to play hooky. Eat lunch, stride out the door, and wander into the Labyrinth... it couldn't be that hard, could it? The afternoon lesson wouldn't be for another three hours or so. If she made it back before then, so be it. If not... Jareth could find something else to do. The way she saw it, Sarah deserved a break. Even at school, she got the weekends off. So there.

After eating, she traded her slippers for the sturdier boots. She was her brown outfit, the plainest of all the gowns she had. Not exactly practical, since it was still silk, but good enough. She donned the necklace too, sliding it around her neck. The pendent hit her mid-chest, sliding into the front of her bodice. Perfect, really; she could pull it out when she needed to, but she wouldn't be flashing it wherever she went either. Very discreet.

Phase One of Operation Let-Me-Out completed. Phase Two initiated.

The walk from her room to the bottom of the staircase was easy enough; it was going past Jareth's study, and then toward the throne room, that set her on edge. He could be anywhere at the castle, but those two spots seemed the most likely. Sarah tip-toed past the door with the carved goblin head, trying to keep her boots from clapping against the hard floor. It was closed, but she wasn't taking any chances.

When she reached the doors at the bottom of the second staircase, she put her ear against the wood to listen for movement.

_A stethoscope would be useful_, she thought, thinking vaguely of spy movies. _Or a cup. I actually have a cup. Guess that'll have to wait for next time. Assuming that Jareth doesn't fry me when he finds me gone._

The coast appeared to be clear. She eased the door open slightly; it squeaked loudly and she winced. Okay. No running feet, no questioning glances. No chattering goblin noises either; apparently court was not in session. Sarah slipped through the doors and fast-walked towards the castle entrance, which she remembered from her first visit to the Goblin City.

The rocky streets spread out before her, creatures bustling along on their errands. Mostly goblins, coming in and out of houses, but other things too. Who would have thought that this place was so cosmopolitan? No one seemed to notice her, so Sarah set out at a brisk walk, head held high.

This was something she had learned from traveling the hallways at school: if you walk as though you belong there, the security guards will never ask you if you have a bathroom pass. _Anyways, it's not like I'm doing anything bad right now. This is my free time. No reason not to take a walk._

People paid more attention once she actually joined the crowd. Not only was she a good foot (at least) taller than most of the city's inhabitants, she was dressed in silk. She was human. Her hair was braided with a gold ribbon. They also recognized the Sarah, the _human _girl who had beaten the Labyrinth and mysteriously come to live with their king again. The fae sent her sideways glances, double-takes, and whispered to each other from behind their hands. The smaller goblins yelped and jumped out of her way, making Sarah feel distinctly uncomfortable, almost as much as the staring did. Most of them kept a wide space between her and themselves, leaving an empty space in the street around her.

Even _Jareth_ didn't get this much attention. He had to kick goblins out of the way when he walked.

Sarah was naturally reserved when she wasn't on stage, preferring to watch events from the shadows and the sidelines. She always had friends, and recently she had Aaron, but the general masses of humanity had never much looked her way. Definitely not the shining throng that made up her school's Elite. Now she had the Fair Folk vying for her attention, Jareth... doing what ever incomprehensible thing he was doing, and the subjects of the Goblin kingdom looking upon her with awe and fear.

Was it any wonder that the Underground made her nervous? It was so much more comfortable to sink into oblivion at home.

The edge of the city was a welcome retreat, but that left the entirety of the Labyrinth stretching out before her. Sarah knew that she wanted to go to the Otherwood, to pay Meggedy a visit and see the foundlings with her own eyes. That was important to her, for some reason, to see the children that her brother had almost joined. She would feel better to know they were well cared-for. She would think better of Jareth for it. And if he was to be believed, it wasn't even his choice to steal the children. The Labyrinth demanded it. _Not that it would make him any less of an ass. He does that just fine on his own._

So. She'd have to ask for directions. Sarah looked around for a likely candidate, probably not a goblin. They weren't known for their wits. She spotted a something that resembled a troll; if it was one, it wasn't the swampy variety. It was carrying a pack on its back and holding a stave, so she figured it would be well-traveled. Approaching slowly, she cleared her throat as she neared.

"Excuse me," Sarah called shyly, not sure whether to add a 'sir' or 'madam'. The troll looked from side to side and fixed its eyes on her. She nodded to it politely. Its mouth opened slightly.

"Me?" It rumbled in a gruff voice. Sarah nodded again.

"Yes. I was wondering if you could give me directions to Addie Otherwood's home?"

"Uh," it said. Sarah waited. "Urk. 'S in th'east side of th'Otherwood."

"Where's that?" she asked patiently. "I haven't been here very long. Sorry."

"Cross the river from the Fiery Forest. If yuh pick it up over there--" he pointed behind him, where Sarah could see a narrow river flow, "--it'll take yuh to the woods. 'S'all over there. Th'Otherwood's a bit... nicer. A path'll take yuh 'tween the trees. Uh." It seemed bewildered by its own eloquence, blinking at her rapidly. "Prob'ly the kids'll be out. See yuh first." It stopped abruptly, slamming its yellow-toothed mouth shut.

"Thanks," said Sarah gratefully, a little unnerved herself. She had the strange feeling that the troll would shriek and jump if she suddenly yelled 'boo'. It couldn't be frightened of her, could it? Would the weirdness never end? "Is it far?"

"Not most of the time," it said cryptically. Then it bobbed up and down moved off at a quick shuffle, stave swinging wildly back and forth. Sarah turned to the river. He didn't say which way to go, exactly, but he had pointed in that direction. Might as well go that way.

It was a surprisingly nice walk; the Labyrinth's twisted, turning pathways didn't approach so close to the Goblin City. She could glimpse them over a hill, which sent her spine creeping, but she was well away from them. The river was bound on one side by the walls of the city, and on the other by a grassy bank and a dusty path. She traveled the path and looked behind herself often... just to make sure the path was staying put. The heart of the kingdom seemed relatively stable, but she wasn't taking any chances.

Half-an-hour at a good pace brought her to a line of saplings, the edges of the forest. She could see the same vegetation emerging on the other side of the river, but it was darker, more twisted, looking almost diseased. The Fiery Forest. Ugh. _No way I'm ever going there again. Hopefully this side of the river will be more hospitable. Didn't the troll say it was nicer?_

The trees grew larger, taller than her, light turning green as it filtered through the leaves. Sarah smiled wryly, feeling more than a little like Red Riding Hood. No basket and no red, of course, but the woods looked like just the kind to have wolves hiding in it. Wolves, or Robin Hood's troop, or a bewitched castle. Perhaps a dwarf's house, or a tree holding a golden goose. The trees were a little too perfectly shaped, the spacing just right. This was more like an archetypal Forest than the mere gathering of trees that graced her park at home. No wonder the Otherwood rated capitalization.

She continued down the path, which grew fainter and fainter as she walked on. By the time she had lost sight of the forest's entrance, it had dwindled to a mere gap in the vegetation. Disturbing, that. Sarah was rather paranoid about getting lost, nowadays. It was a sensation akin to vertigo, twisting around and around and not recognizing anything...

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, counted to five, and opened them again. There was still a path at her feet, something providing her with direction. She found that her hand was clenched around the pendent of her new necklace, the sharp curves digging painfully into the flesh of her palm. She let go of it and tucked it back into her bodice, not quite sure how it had found its way into her hand. _Jareth said it wouldn't prevent me from getting lost, _she remembered mournfully. It could protect her from everyone in the kingdom but herself.

A quiet giggle erupted to Sarah's right, followed quickly by an unmistakable shushing noise. The familiar noise drained the tension from her body. It was something she heard often from Toby and his playmates, a quick vocalization of pure glee. Not without a little mischief, though. A thoroughly human noise.

"Don't bother hiding," she called out, her loud voice echoing in the broken silence. "I have eyes in the back of my head. I can see you over there." Sarah was used to small children. They were easily impressed.

"Plassa!" growled a high voice. "Why do you always have to follow us?"

"Sowwy?" replied an even higher voice, that of a younger child. The giggler.

"Go on!" said the first voice irritably. A figure rushed out a bush next to Sarah, less than hip-high. It skidded to a stop in front of her, looking up with a sweet smile. It was a little girl with wispy carroty hair in pigtails, freckles sprinkled lightly across her nose.

"Hi," Plassa chirped. She might have been around three or four. Sarah felt her heart melt into warm red goop.

"Hello," she replied softly. "I was looking for you."

"Me?" squeaked the little girl, happily.

"Yep. I was looking for the foundlings, and I guess you must be one. I think that I owe you a piece of chocolate for that."

A sound of rustling in the bushes. Sarah grinned.

"Chocolate?" Plassa's eyes lit up. "Gimme!"

"Certainly. But you have to show me the way to Addie Otherwood's house."

"Oh. I..."

Two other shapes whizzed out of the bushes, stopping behind the little girl. They were two boys, around seven or eight. They both had thick black hair and olive skin. Identical twins.

"We can help!" said the one on the left promptly. "Plassa's too little. Benedict and Antonius, at your service, my lady."

"Which is which?"

"I am Antonius," said the one on the right. "The elder by thirteen minutes. That is Benedict." Antonius wore gray and Benedict wore brown.

"I suppose all three of you could show me the way, and I'd reward all of you at the end of the journey. Fair enough?"

"Yes!" cried Plassa. "Chocolate!"

"Right this way, madam!" said Antonius briskly, gesturing frantically at Sarah to follow. Apparently chocolate was a rare treat; Sarah couldn't remember even getting that worked up about it as a child. Potato chips, maybe, but not candy.

Plassa's hand found its way into Sarah's.

"Come _on,_" she said emphatically. "It's close."

Sarah followed, feeling like she was on an adventure. Enthusiasm is catching.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: Well, I didn't quite get to everything that I hoped, but oh well. It's late and I'm tired. I apologize for any un-caught typos. Also, for the record, I'd just like to say that David Bowie has the second sexiest voice ever. Er. Alan Rickman gets number one, hands down, but Bowie is a close second. listens to TVC-15 and dances around madly.

Since this is the author's note at the end of the chapter, I'd like to once again thank my reviewers for giving me their input and letting me snicker evilly at their predictions. Hee hee. **Ophelia Eternal, Eleanor Rose, Solea, Moonjava, Awhina, Velf **(Flirty-flirty? Hmm, I like that...) **, draegon-fire**(My lips are sealed!)**, Bex drake, Mav1, Kathleen**(If I confirmed that, I'd have to kill you. But good guess...) **, SP777**(I'm blushing!)**, cali-luv, Lady Sethia **(Aww... tear... )and **Porphyria's Lover**(There's lots of really excellent Labyrinth fanfic out there. Go for it!)

All of you guys make me feel so warm and fuzzy inside! Group hug! :-)


	12. Stories

Chapter Twelve: Stories

The three children pulled Sarah through the forest with the force of a whirlwind, a small tornado of arms, legs, and chubby cheeks. They pulled her off the pathway and through the dead leaves and damp ferns that lined the forest floor, obviously aware of a hidden shortcut. Sarah passed through the landscape with the barest impression of silver bark, new emerald growth, and cerulean sky overhead. After five minutes of dashing they reached a sudden precipice. It appeared out of nowhere, giving Sarah a small fright; without her guides, she might have just toppled over the edge. Below the cliff lay a tiny village of stone huts, centered around a modestly large dwelling of stone and daub. Gardens bound the village on one side; on the other was a small greensward, devoid of anything but grass.

Peter Pan, the Pied Piper, or the Seven Dwarves could have popped out of any of the houses and Sarah wouldn't have been surprised.

"How do we get down?" Sarah asked her three companions.

"Steps!" announced Plassa. Benedict rolled his eyes.

"There are steps cut in the side of the cliff," he explained. "You can't see them from here. But _Plassa's _not allowed to go on them. She could fall."

"I don't fall!" argued Plassa indignantly. "I'm a big girl."

Sarah looked down. It was a good twenty feet to the ground. She could see Benedict's point.

"I'll carry Plassa," she said sensibly. "You two can lead the way." The boys nodded seriously. The little girl pouted half-heartedly, but she let Sarah lift her up without any protest.

The stairs were carved across the length of the cliff, well hidden by the leaves if you didn't know they were there. They were wide, but there was no railing and they were steep. Between her dragging skirts and the foundling clinging to her front, Sarah was terrified that she would topple over and kill both of them. What a way to go, after all that she'd been through. Maybe she could conjure a trampoline to cushion the fall. Probably not.

They reached the ground safely enough, but Plassa seemed in no hurry to relinquish her grasp on Sarah's neck. Sarah, who was missing Toby all the sudden, didn't mind.

"Where is everybody?" she asked, looking back and forth at the clearing.

"The older ones aren't around," volunteered Antonius.

"They're in the woods like we were, or maybe in town," finished Benedict.

"The little ones are taking their afternoon nap," added Antonius.

"But not Plassa," grinned Sarah, beginning to become very fond of the girl. She had... spunk.

"Not me!" agreed Plassa.

"Addie's in her house, so we'll take you there."

A silent walk, making the final steps up to the biggest house. It was the closest thing to a normal house that Sarah had seen in the Labyrinth, though its walls were very smooth and the corners were rounded off. The roof was made of thatch and daub, sloping gently over the top of the building. Round windows punched the occasional hole in the thick walls. In truth, the house was heavy and rather ugly, but it had a certain earthy charm. It looked like it had grown there, with a fairy ring of smaller houses appearing like mushrooms around it.

The door of the house was heavy, dark, and very very old. The twins pulled it open together, revealing a light-filled front room dotted with low tables and stools. A screen was set off to the side, dividing the room into two spaces. A taller table with chairs lay beyond it. Plants hung from the ceiling rafters, drying—bundles of herbs that Sarah recognized as well as flowers of every color, even bunches of bark and berries. The walls were lined with shelves filled with pots and jars, piles of parchment, and tattered books. A couple of cats were sleeping on one of them, tortoiseshell and tabby.

"Addie!" yelled Benedict. "We have a visitor! A grown-up lady!"

Well, that was gratifying. At least _someone_ considered her an adult.

"I can see that," spoke a warm contralto voice—hot spiced cider, Sarah thought, or mulled wine and honey. Something intoxicating that had grown better with age; that's what the sound conjured in her mind.

A woman stepped out from behind the screen, a book in hand. She was average height, slim but sturdy, wide high cheekbones lending her face dignity and strength. She might have been on the far side of middle age, moving gracefully toward the golden years. Her dark hair was shot liberally with white, her olive skin delicately lined and creased. The black eyes were bright.

Addie Otherwood looked as though she could chew nails and spit them out as thumbtacks. Sarah liked her immediately.

"Good day, my dear," she said to Sarah genially. Her gaze drifted toward the little girl in her arms. "I see you've found my escapee. Antonius, Benedict, could you take Plassa back to bed?"

"No!" cried Plassa adamantly. "Chocolate!"

"I promised them chocolate if they'd show me the way," explained Sarah quickly, hoping that she hadn't broken any house rules. She didn't want to cross the formidable woman standing in front of her.

"Well, I won't interfere in a business transaction," replied Addie after a thoughtful pause. "Though our young hellion will have to wait until after her nap to eat hers."

Plassa pouted furiously. Sarah set her down with an apology and stretched.

"Okay," she started, briskly. "I just learned this a few hours ago , but I think I can do it. I know chocolate pretty well. If not, I'll owe you. Maybe I can convince Ja—someone to conjure some."

The children looked at her blankly. Addie watched on.

"Here it goes," she sighed. Sarah closed her eyes, concentrated, and summoned a crystal. That was the easy part. Then she pictured three unwrapped Hershey's bars in her hand... milk chocolate, cool and dry, crisp but not crunchy, smooth and mellow, sweet and rich...

The crystal popped and there was a new weight in her hand. Sarah opened her eyes and looked down. One chocolate bar, not very big. But still something. Sarah whooped.

"I knew it! I just had trouble with the stupid pears. I hate pears, anyways. Chocolate is much better." She broke it into three pieces and stretched her hand toward the kids.

The children didn't take it.

"What?" asked Sarah uneasily. "It's perfectly alright. I have it from the best authority that eating conjured food has no ill effects. And I don't think he would lie about that."

"Ex-excuse me, my lady," stammered Antonius with wide eyes. "I m-mistook you for a human. I didn't know. I'm s-sorry."

"But I am--"

"They're just surprised," interrupted Addie, taking the candy from Sarah's hand and passing it to the three kids. "Run along now, children."

They shuffled out and Sarah was left in the wide room with the woman.

"I should introduce myself," said Sarah shyly to break the silence. Addie chuckled.

"There's no need. Your reputation, and Meggedy's gossip, has proceeded you. You are Sarah. With all that entails."

"What _does_ it entail?" she asked nervously. Addie chuckled again.

"Calm down, child. Here—let's sit down. Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you. Er. Ms. Otherwood. I don't really drink tea."

"Addie, please. And I understand the sentiment. I enjoy a good brandy much better, myself."Addie led her over to the table behind the screen. This part of the room was hung with samplers and a large window took up one wall. The floor was clay tile overlaid with a carpet. Sarah sat down and Addie joined her. They discussed simple things for awhile, and Addie found her a cup of water. Eventually, though, Sarah couldn't help but inquire what Addie had heard about her.

"Well, I know that you're the Human Girl who solved the Labyrinth," started Addie, "and I know that you've returned against all expectations. Meggedy told me that Jareth has apprenticed you."

"That's true."

"And unprecedented. But then, so are you." The older woman smiled kindly. "Don't be offended by the children's reactions to you. Humans can't do magic, you know. As a rule."

"So I've heard," muttered Sarah sardonically. "But I'm used gawking, believe me. I had to walk through the Goblin City in order to get here—they stared at me like I had three heads! I didn't even do any magic!" By the end, her voice was distraught.

"I'm sure they'd be far less surprised if you did have three heads—that's more usual down here than a human girl dressed in silk, staying in the castle under His Majesty's care. Everyone knows you by description, you know; the story spread around after you left the Labyrinth the first time. Now that you're back... why, you're the most interesting news we've had since Jeremial Dara accidentally transported himself into the Goblin City. And that was over a hundred years ago."

"Jeremiel is my step-dad," she blurted out, unthinkingly. Addie's mouth formed an 'o' of surprise.

"Is that so? Amazing. The Fates have certainly woven you a tangle of a life, perhaps even worse than mine. You are, after all, the only human to ever solve the Labyrinth in its current form."

"In its current form? So there were others?"

"One other." Addie's eyes went dreamy. "Just myself, when I was your age. A bit younger, actually. The Labyrinth was much, much smaller then. And less treacherous."

Synapses fired and Sarah's brain made connections. Addie... Labyrinth... Jareth's story... Addie...

"Ariadne!" Sarah shouted. Then she realized how loud that had been. "Sorry. But..?"

"Clever girl. Jareth must have told you the story."

"He did. But not all of it, apparently. He said that Daedalus had stayed in the Labyrinth, but not you." She blinked, the reality of the matter setting in. Here was the Cretan princess of legend, sitting right in front of her, a well-preserved old woman. Remarkably well-preserved for a 4000-year-old human. Sarah's mind reeled, as it had when she had learned Jareth's age. It just didn't compute.

"I didn't stay, originally. I went back home as spoiled goods. Father got rid of me to the first best offer he got—it was very good, in fact, for a deflowered daughter. I married an older man, bore his children, watched him die before they were grown. I spent years as a wealthy widow, lonely but well-dressed. When my youngest child married and left home I felt... extraneous. I had wasted my youth, and only now did I have the time for an adventure. I remembered Jareth, of course. He's not an easy person to forget. I... called him, was surprised when he answered. He looked just the same, but I was old." Another smile crossed her lips, this one slight and bitter. Sarah felt her stomach twist slightly, oddly.

"I came to the Labyrinth, surprised to see how it had grown. I visited with Daedalus. He was practically an uncle to me; I grew up around him, you see. He helped me adjust to the Underground. Then I learned about the children that the Labyrinth was taking. There were only a few then, a very few, but there was no one to care for them. I took up the job. And here I am, thousands of years and children later."

"How have you lived so long?"

"Oh, the Labyrinth has recognized my usefulness, taking care of its children. I suspect that I will always be here, unless I pass my job on to another. I suppose I will, someday, when I grow tired of life. But the children have kept me lingering here for longer than I had expected."

"Are there many?" asked Sarah, trying to steer clear of the melancholy note in the woman's voice. Addie's demeanor changed abruptly, becoming more brisk.

"Yes. Currently, around seventy-five, in various stages of growth. The eldest are young adults; they stay around to help care for the younger ones. The very youngest child is just a babe. About half of them are human, a quarter are of them are half-breeds, an eighth are purebred something-or-other, and an eighth belong to the Shining Ones."

"The Shining Ones?"

"You might call them the Fae, but of course that is only one culture's name for them. And confusing as well. Young Jeremiel is one of the Shining Ones. What we call the Fae are the lesser creatures of the Underground, the trolls and faeries and ogres."

"I see. Why so few of them? And why so many humans?"

"Because the humans don't tend to solve the Labyrinth, of course. Only you. The few young Shining Ones who are foolish enough to wish children away usually have enough magical knowledge to win them back. Occasionally there are people who don't want the children back, but that's rare."

"Oh." Sarah hesitated. "I wanted to come see how the children lived here. Since... my little brother might have been one of them. I wanted to make sure he would have been alright."

"Do you still feel bad about that?" asked Addie, peering at Sarah's down-turned face. Sarah nodded reluctantly.

"My girl, don't be too hard on yourself. We've all had our moments of weakness. You obviously care for the boy. Why worry about it now?"

"I can't help thinking about what might have been. I think it was luck, more than anything, that got me through. And I had help—Hoggle, and Ludo, and Sir Didymus. If I hadn't found them, or if I hadn't woken from the dream..." Sarah trailed off.

"We all have our moments of weakness, child. To wish a sibling away is a particularly egregious error, but one learns from them and one moves on. You've learned your lesson, I believe, which is the important part. Don't sell yourself short and don't discount your strengths." Addie patted Sarah's right hand where it rested on the table. "You're a good person and a fine woman."

"You can tell that after a few minutes?" asked Sarah dryly. A small smile appeared on her face of its own accord.

"More than a few minutes—nearly an hour. And yes, I can tell."

Sarah looked out of the large window. The sun was getting low in the sky, not far away from setting. She winced.

"Uh-oh. I didn't realize that it had been so long... I should go home before Jareth works himself into a fury."

"Home?" asked Addie blandly.

"For now. You know what I mean. Temporarily, it's home."

"Of course. You should be careful to make it back before nightfall. The Labyrinth becomes much less inviting then."

"Jareth gave me a pendant," Sarah said. She dragged it out of its hiding place in her bodice. "He said it would protect me from the Labyrinth's less-friendly inhabitants."

"... my." Addie looked down at the shining object in Sarah's hand, lips parting slightly. All traces of humor were wiped from her face. "My, my."

"What?" asked Sarah defensively.

"Yes, I should think it would do that," replied the woman absently. "They would not dare cross you..." She blinked rapidly and seemed to take hold of herself again. "Still, I think it best that you should go. It would be easy for you to lose your way, with or without the necklace. I'll send the twins with you to the edge of the wood. They know the quickest paths."

"Thank you, then. I'd like to come back someday again, if I may. To visit Meggedy. And Plassa." Sarah grinned. "She's adorable."

"Oh, you wouldn't say that if you had to care for her like I do," replied Addie with a groan. "She's quite a handful. But you're very welcome to come any time you like."

"Also... you don't know a dwarf named Hoggle, by any chance, do you? Or a fox named Sir Didymus, or a... a creature named Ludo?" Sarah's friends had been on her mind since she had returned, but she wasn't sure how to get a message to them. Especially to Hoggle, who lived at the very edge of the Labyrinth.

"I know all of them well," said the other woman. "Sir Didymus is a great friend of mine, and both Hoggle and Ludo were foundlings."

"What? Really?" Sarah's eyes grew wide with interest. "I had no idea."

"I'll try to contact them—I'm sure they'll be interested to see you. How about I send you a message when I hear from them?"

"That would be perfect."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The sun was sinking below the horizon when Sarah finally returned to the castle; it was a dark silhouette behind the curtain of violet and carmine that the sky had become. She slowly ascended the stairs to the door, hands clenching in her skirts to keep them away from her boots.

_Here I am,_ she thought grimly. _Home again. Unless he's really angry. Then he might dump me into some oubliette until he cools off. Really, what's the worst he could do? He has no power over me that I do not give him._

It wasn't like she had done anything horrible. She had been truant for a few hours—a small sin, in the big scheme of things. But Jareth was unpredictable and maybe, just a little bit, her conscience was blowing things out of proportion.

The top of the stairs came into view, and then she was in front of the wide doubles doors. Two soldier-goblins stood at attention on each side; they hadn't been there that morning. They jumped to attention when they spotted her.

"Please let me in," she asked politely, while dread quietly weighed down her stomach. Surely they'd let her in?

"Hnh!" One of the goblins made a sharp noise, turned, and they both pulled at levers behind them. The doors opened smoothly.

"Thank you," she whispered, rustling past them. They bowed slightly as she went inside, armor clanking.

The doors closed behind her again with a quiet thump. Here she was in the familiar front hall. Torches lit the way before her, now that the sun had gone. Sarah hadn't been in this part of the castle past sun down—mostly she kept to her rooms and Jareth's small study. Except for dinner, of course, which was in a modest dining room close by. Not too big, it probably wasn't used for state functions, if Jareth _had_ state functions...

_Okay. Now I'm mentally babbling. Sarah Williams, shut up and walk._

She walked. She walked past the throne room, up the stairs, down the hallway... and there was light pouring from Jareth's door; it was cracked open. Sarah stopped mid-stride, right in front of the entrance. The goblin carved on it seemed to be sneering at her. Her mind warred with her gut feelings—should she get it over with or hide? Explain now, or hope he forgot by the next morning?

"Sarah."

She turned quickly, nearly tripping over her feet. Jareth was leaning against the wall several feet in front of her, at the foot of the stairs that led to her room. The torches left half of his face unlit—his hooded eyes glittered. His expression was impassive.

"Hello," said Sarah lamely. She raised her chin slightly, not willing to shrink beneath his gaze.

"Did you have a nice walk?" he asked silkily. Sarah hesitated.

"Yes, I did."

"I'm glad."

She had braced herself for a blow, but he seemed unwilling to gratify her by lashing out.

"I thought that learning magic was important to you," he said after a long minute of paralyzing silence.

"...it is." Her voice was small.

"I thought that you wanted to learn enough to return home. That you wanted to do so as soon as possible."

"Yes."

"Then _why,_" and now his voice was icy, "did you see fit to miss one of your much-valued lessons? Do you _not_ wish to return to the Aboveground? Do you now wish to _explore_ a land that you so reviled before?"

"I needed a break!" she said, voice so incredulous that it cracked on the last word. "Is that so much to ask?"

"A break," he repeated. His lips curled upward, smiling, but it held no humor. Rather, he looked like he was about to say something unforgivable. And he knew it.

Sarah held her breath.

"I see," he commented finally. "Then... I guess... I will not work you so hard. You don't really need two lessons in a day, do you? One will suffice. Perhaps every other day, even... yes, I think that is a just solution." He turned sharply on one heel and began to walk down the corridor, boots clicking sharply. Sarah rushed after him, running to catch up and running to keep up.

"No! You can't... where are you going?"

"Dinner. Aren't you hungry? You've had a long day, I'm sure." He didn't turn to look at her while he spoke. Sarah frowned fiercely at him.

"Jareth! You can't just cut back on my lessons like that, I _need_ them..."

She trailed off as they entered the small room they always ate in; it was stone-walled, like the rest of the castle, with a ten-foot long table in the middle. A chandelier, fitted with candles rather than the lightbulbs she was accustomed to, hung over the center. The ceiling was high and a few aged tapestries lined the walls. A chair sat at either end of the table and dishes ranged down the length of it. In the past evenings, she had practiced levitation by moving plates from the middle of the table to her place setting.

Jareth stopped at a sideboard, poured something into two fluted glasses, and passed one to Sarah. She took it without thinking, still caught up in his last words.

"You are my student. You learn at my discretion." He drank half of the glass's contents in one gulp. Sarah growled in frustration.

"I missed one lesson! You gave me that pendant this morning and said I could travel around the Labyrinth—you couldn't have seriously expected me to just stay put after that?"

"I thought you took your studies seriously."

Sarah let out her breath in a hiss and took a liberal sip of her drink... and then she swallowed heavily and blinked rapidly.

"What is this?" she asked, eyes narrowing at the glass.

"Red wine. Do you like it?"

_Yes,_she thought.

"It's a bit... strong."

"Not much a drinker, are you?" Oh, he was amused now. Great.

"Don't try to change the subject. You are not cutting back my lessons. I'll be here forever if I only have them every other day!"

"Sit down. The food will get cold."

"Jareth!"

He sat at his own spot and waved her toward hers. Sarah stomped over to the chair, grinding her teeth, and sat.

"Jareth."

"Yes?" He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly. Sarah's jaw dropped open.

"Are you intentionally trying to drive me insane?"

"Oh, definitely. Have no doubts on that account."

He was an absolute lunatic. There was no other explanation. _How can someone go from that pissed-off to this complacent in the space of ten minutes? _Sarah drained the rest of her glass, not particularly caring about little things like alcohol, the effects of alcohol, or her nonexistent alcohol tolerance.

"One lesson a day. That's all. Or else... or else..." Her mind stuttered to a halt. Or else what?

"You drive a hard bargain, Sarah," he murmured. He was laughing at her! Again! That bastard!

"I'll send a message to Grandmother Dara! She'll come to get me. She'll come to get me anyway in a few weeks—she said she would. If I didn't show up at King Thingummy's when Court convenes."

"What?" An edge crept into his voice again as he leaned forward. "When was this?"

"It was in a letter she sent me," replied Sarah, sensing that she had hit upon something important. "She said that Jeremy told her that he told me about the Underground. She said that I should come to visit them where they lived." Sarah grinned suddenly. "She said she'd hook me up with someone who doesn't mind humans."

"Hook up?" he annunciated carefully. _I guess Jareth isn't up-to-date on human terminology, _she thought.

"She wants to arrange a me a _betrothal_," she said. "Or, at the very least, induce me to attend the ball. Very understanding of her, to acknowledge that I might not be interested in marriage yet." Sarah sniffed in derision, shaking herhead.

"Is that so," Jareth said slowly. "Rather presumptuous of the old woman, isn't it? I suppose she was talking about Gunnar's affair next month. I believe the Daras are ambassadors in Idunn."

"I wouldn't know," replied Sarah sourly. She looked down at her empty plate. Hunger gnawed at her stomach.

"One lesson a day," he said. "One. You'll need it if Lady Dara is planning to abduct you."

"Better her than you," Sarah muttered. "She might actually let me go home afterwards."

"Don't be naïve," he snapped, looking up at her. "They'll tie you to whom ever is most convenient, never mind that you never actually agreed to it. You're just a human girl, Sarah—a useful brood mare, a pretty plaything, a piece of jewelry to grace the arm of a young princeling or widowed baron." His tone turned exquisitely sharp and carelessly cruel. "The blood of the Shining Ones is always inherited by their offspring, so there's no chance of them being infected by your human handicaps. Your loving husband will keep you on your back and bearing his brats, absolutely _delighted_ by your fertility. Humans are such short-lived creatures; they breed fast."

Sarah's breath caught in her throat. "Don't try to frighten me. Mrs. Dara was very kind when I met her, she wouldn't do something like that. And Jeremy wouldn't allow it; as my step-father, I'd think he'd have a say."

"You modern girls are quite amusing," commented Jareth. His mismatched eyes fixed directly on hers. The candlelight made the planes of his face stark and sharp, the pale skin stretched tight over brittle bones. "So innocent and righteous. A few hundred years ago, even a hundred years ago, no woman would ever make such a brave claim. Don't be fooled by your upbringing or the laws of your home. They do not make you invulnerable in the Underground. Jeremy is a good man, but don't think that he can protect you, or that he would. Maybe it's not fair, but we've already been over that little fact before—life isn't fair."

"I do not want to talk about this anymore," said Sarah blankly, her own blood-drained skin just as pale as his, made paler by her dark hair and dress. She raised her hand and a dish levitated, wobbling, to her side of the table. She calmly pushed food onto her plate, but her hands were trembling violently. She could feel his eyes still on her, watching, making sure that his speech had penetrated. When she looked up again, he was getting his own food.

It was a long time when they spoke again. The subject was inconsequential.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sarah went to her lesson the next morning and paid very close attention to what her teacher said. More days passed, and she met her friends at Addie's for one pleasant afternoon. She complained about her predicament to a quiet Hoggle, who was sympathetic but guarded. Ludo and Sir Didymus were more lively, the latter taking great enjoyment in introducing to his other "ladies fair"— Meggedy was one, Addie and Plassa two others. It was a much-needed rest; Sarah returned to the castle with a smile on her face.

Two weeks had been spent in the Underground, and then three, and then the fourth was almost gone. Nearly a month—time was passing swiftly. Sarah learned to set fires and conjure scarves, produce a ball of light and summon books from the library. She could not yet travel the layers of the world.

Memories of her family still lingered in her mind, joined by thoughts of her friends from school. They were very far away from her life in the Labyrinth, a niggling worry that itched but did not hurt.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: Whew! Glad to get that one done with; I'm very-much looking forward to writing the next few chapters. Hopefully everyone else will enjoy reading them. Plot-twists and surprises! I promise!

Thank you to reviewers, new and old—this story's getting long and will be much longer, so I appreciate you guys sticking with it. Thanks to **Lhiata, Bex Drake, Solea, Moonjava, Eleanora Rose, Give-Me-Your-Coffee, Lovely Doom, Draegon-fire, Scary Miss Mary, Writer from Rivendell, Julie, and Cariah Delonne**. As always, any comments are received with joy.


	13. Something Rich and Strange

Chapter Thirteen: Something Rich and Strange

"I'd like to meet Daedalus," Sarah announced at the end of her daily magic lesson, just as she was standing up to go. It was near noon, but the windowless room let no sunlight in. Only an old clock (marked with thirteen numerals) gave a clue as to the time of day. The study was lit, as always, by the fire in the fireplace and the ever-present candles. The Goblin King was perusing the bookshelves hung on the wall and answered Sarah absently.

"Is that so?"

"I've been looking for him for the past two weeks, but Addie refuses to give me any directions. No one else knows where he lives."

"Hmm." Jareth didn't seem to be paying attention; Sarah scowled at his back.

"Any helpful hints?" she asked pointedly.

"No."

"Why not? Do you not know where he lives?" A lame attempt at reverse psychology. Jareth paused long enough from his searching to send Sarah a derisive look.

"Don't insult my intelligence with your feeble attempts at manipulation."

"So you _do_ know where he lives."

"Of course I do. But I won't tell you; if Daedalus wants to be found, he'll let you find him."

"Jareth," pronounced Sarah, throwing her hands up, "You are excellent at sucking every droplet of fun out of life."

"One of the many things that I excel at," he muttered; then, pausing, he pulled a book from the shelves. "Take this," he said, tossing it behind him. Sarah uttered a quiet yelp before realizing that the book was hovering down to meet her, rather than hurtling. She grabbed it out of the air and studied it. The cover was dull dark red, somewhat battered, and unmarked by title or author. It was around two inches thick; the paper was thick and slightly uneven, yellowing at the edges.

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

"A book." He smirked at her irritated look. "It is your homework. That is the word that human children use, isn't it?"

"Unfortunately," murmured Sarah. "You're giving me homework?"

"Quite. Read it—it's about magical theory. I'm sure it will do you good."

"Wow, thanks. Don't you have any more interesting books you could give me?" Sarah opened it and flipped through—paragraph upon paragraph of tiny words, interrupted every so often by a sketchy diagram. Yikes.

"There is a larger library here in the castle. You can borrow any book in it that you like." He paused. "If you can find it." Once a villainous Goblin King, always a villainous Goblin King. Sarah felt like a lab rat in an infinite maze. "But do make sure that you finish this one."

"Is there a deadline?" asked Sarah sourly.

"Not at all," he replied, flashing a smile that was as compelling as it was unsettling. "You have all the time in the world. Now go away. I have another appointment to attend to."

Twenty-eight days had given Sarah some sense of familiarity toward the Goblin King. But sometimes... sometimes... he made her very nervous. She did not beg or plead to be sent home, as that had never worked in the past. The girl did her work and learned as best she could, keeping an ear open for any sign of escape. Well, perhaps escape was too strong a word. She led a pampered life in comparison to other prisoners; it seemed almost unfair to call it imprisonment. The life she had left behind was drab and boring, filled with small highs and shallow lows. At times it was almost too tedious to bear. Here, she was learning magic, she was fraternizing with goblins and dwarves and mythical princesses. By all rights she should have been happy, and she _was_, in odd moments when she forgot that she was marooned there. Even some of her magic lessons were enjoyable, when Jareth became Jareth-the-Professor and stopped being insufferable.

But there was always a sense of guilt and wrongness in the back of her mind, tainting her life in the Goblin Kingdom. The human mind can only handle strong emotions for so long before they dissolve into less extreme things. The fear and anger—nay, fury—that she had felt at her arrival had ebbed, leaving only traces behind. This enabled her to function well in day -to-day life, but it was not exactly comfortable. Guilt for leaving her family and friends without a word of warning plagued her, guilt for causing them worry. Maybe she sometimes liked Jareth (she knew this, though she wouldn't admit to herself that she did)... but he had trapped her, tricked her, stolen her. Sarah couldn't forgive that. It wasn't right. You couldn't just do that to people, no matter what your motives were.

So she left the study, book in hand, feeling disquiet roiling in her stomach but resisting the lure of an argument. She ate lunch, as was her routine, left the book on her little table, and pondered her daily Exploration.

Sarah wasn't sure what drove her outside of the castle; a simple escape from boredom, sure, but that wasn't quite all. Maybe she was storing up memories against her return to the more mundane Aboveground. How often does one get a chance to see unicorns, after all? Not that she had seen any, but Meggedy assured her that they were there. She had explored the breadth of the Otherwood in the company of foundlings, and had attended a bazaar in the Goblin City with Antonius and Benedict at her side. Timidity had kept her out of the Labyrinth Proper.

Today, the sky outside was gray and ominous—at the edge of horizon, Sarah could see thunderheads rolling in. _Perhaps an outdoor journey would be ill-advised, _she decided when she looked out of her chamber windows. Meteorology wasn't one of her fortés, but common sense said that rain was approaching. _My options, then: staying in here and sleeping, staying in here and reading that book, or exploring the castle._ Hmm. She glanced at the red book sitting heavily on the table. Not too appealing.

Alright. She'd look for the library. Maybe she'd get lucky and find a copy of _The Hobbit _there.

Sarah had gained a working knowledge of the castle's layout in the past weeks, but it was strictly practical. She could find her room, sitting lonely in a hallway of unused guest chambers. She could find Jareth's study, which lay in a bank of administrative offices (a week ago she had met Castor the gnome, who acted as Jareth's steward). She could find the kitchens, manned by a small army of smarter-than-average goblins, and she could find the room where she ate dinner with the king. She could find the throne room.

Beyond that, ignorance reigned.

Logic told her that the library wouldn't be on her floor, so she began her search on a lower level. Down, down, down the stairs, and past the throne room to places she'd never been. The corridors there were dusty and empty, as all of them tended to be. It lacked the clerestory of her own home-hallway, so large torches lit the space—Sarah felt rather as though she was exploring some ancient tomb. Hieroglyphics on the wall would have added to the atmosphere perfectly.

The girl came to a set of large doors, the first since the throne room. They were taller than she was, with a large roaring lion head carved onto each one. They gazed down at her fiercely, eyes flaming and jaws gnashing, frozen in a moment. She could almost feel the spittle flying from their teeth as they snarled.

She pulled at the door handle feebly, not sure that she wanted to venture into a room guarded by such beasts. The door didn't budge; Sarah dropped the handle quickly and it clanged against its metal rest. One of the lions lunged a few inches out of the wood, feet above her, muscles straining down toward her body—Sarah gasped sharply and jumped backward, but it couldn't reach her. The other lion opened its jaws wider in a soundless cry. Sarah backed away, startled, and went quickly back down the passageway.

No way was she trying_ that _room again.

Farther onward, then. Her path turned sharply around a corner, but still no doors came in sight. She crept down the hall for an interminable amount of time, maybe a minute, maybe five, maybe ten.

Then she emerged into a light-filled crossroads, five halls branching off from the one nexus. It was tall, pentagonal; the clerestory was back and the ceiling was domed, soaring far above Sarah's head. There was stained glass involved, but she couldn't decipher the pattern from where she stood. A five-pointed star was inlaid on the floor in pale marble and the stained glass decorated it with shards of brilliant hues. They were more than random color; Sarah looked closer and saw pictures projected onto each point of the star.

How odd. One would think that the pictures would move based on the position of the sun. Maybe they did. Maybe the rooms did too. Maybe the light here had no relation to the sun outside. Sarah had learned to take nothing for granted in the Goblin Kingdom.

On one point, the one pointing towards Sarah, lay a crude beast—the lion? On another was a red rosette, followed by a blue crescent moon, a pale bird, and... a book. It was definitely a book. Sarah grinned triumphantly. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that the library was down the corresponding passageway. She went off in that direction, squashing the urge to whistle; the silence was heavy and nearly complete, the kind of quiet that was painful to break. The girl found a set of doors almost immediately, these emblazoned with a griffin carved in relief. It looked down at her benevolently, unmoving. Quite reassuring. Sarah pulled at that tarnished ring that served as a handle and was gratified when the door swung silently opened.

The library lay before her in all its glory, a bibliophile's wet dream.

It was octagonal, possessing three more walls than the star area, and the ceiling was at least twenty feet over head. Three sections of the octagon were devoted to window space, which stretched from ceiling to floor, but the rest was plastered with shelving and filled with books. A narrow walkway created something of a second floor, allowing access to the highest shelves; rolling ladders were attached to the shelves, much to Sarah's glee, to assist in book-finding. For once, the space wasn't lined with stone—there was wood paneling instead, a warm cherry that matched the shelves and the ladders. The floor was pale marble. A few heavy tables sat in the floor space and several sumptuous armchairs had scattered themselves about the room.

"Oh," she breathed, almost soundlessly, taking in the room. The girl took half a step forward, fingers flexing as if they couldn't wait to reach out to the books. The book-lover in her soul was screaming with frantic glee. Books... books... _everywhere._

She moved forward, out of the door way and toward the opposite wall. Her eyes stroked over the many-colored spines when she reached the shelves, perusing feverishly for something familiar. A brassy placard caught her eye, small and unobtrusive as it was. _Underground History,_ it said politely in fine copperplate script. She mouthed the words in response and read titles: _The Southern Coast: 900-1159, Marius of Marit, The Princes of Allorin, A Narrative of the 50-Year War. _

A short hiss interrupted her search. Sarah whirled around, startled, looking for the source of the sudden noise. The hiss repeated itself, this time broken and rhythmic—like laughter, almost.

"His Majesty's pet, I presume." Words now, though they retained the harsh sibilance of the laughter. Sarah caught a glimpse of movement—on a dark table edge, near her, a small luminous shape. Something clicked in Sarah's head.

"Lord Fellmarch?" she said uncertainly, disconcerted and somewhat confused. She remembered the malignant little marsh light from Jareth's whatever-it-was, Court session, weeks before. Question was, what was he doing in the castle library?

"Correct," he confirmed, clipping the word off sharply.

"I didn't... expect to find you here," said Sarah obliquely. She stared at the marsh light. He unnerved her more than a little; there was something indefinably creepy about shining, naked little men with dragonfly wings and pointy razor teeth.

"Didn't think that a marsh light would be capable of reading?" he asked venomously. Sarah blinked, searching for an answer.

"Er. I didn't mean that at all. I'm just surprised to see you here in the castle, rather than your own domain."

"His Majesty summoned the lords of his demesne for our monthly gathering." Fellmarch spoke as if she should have known what he was talking about. "I am a nocturnal creature by preference, so I arrived in the dark of night and will leave in the dark of night. In the mean time... I do what I please."

"The light in here doesn't bother you?" Curiosity, as always, pricked.

"I stick to the shadows. The collection here is worth braving the sunlight."

Question answered. The marsh light twitched his iridescent wings, stretching. He tossed head, silvery hair thrown behind him, and gave Sarah a sideways glance.

"I hear that you have acquired a pretty new necklace," he said silkily, almost coyly, looking at her through near-invisible eyelashes. The remark caught her off-guard.

"I.." _What on earth is _this _about?_ "So I have."

"Might I see it?" This in a mock-innocent tone. Wholly ineffective, coming from the eerie and knowing voice. Sarah pulled at the chain around her neck, lifting the gold pendant out of her bodice. She held it out tentatively so he could see. Fellmarch crossed his arms and padded closer to the very edge of the table.

"How interesting." He made 'interesting' sound like a very bad thing to be. "Pet, indeed."

Sarah really wanted to be angry—somewhere in the back of her head, she _was_ angry—but the entire situation was too weird for the emotion to really take hold.

_I have a bad feeling about this. This is an anomaly. Nothing good ever comes of anomalies. Probably I should leave the room _right now_ before he turns into some raving demon and eats me. Or kidnaps me. Kidnapping is more likely, the way things are going now._

Often, when Sarah was worried, she would experience diarrhea of the brain. This was one occurrence.

"I'm no pet," she said, contempt seeping into her voice on the last word. She let the necklace drop back against her body and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Perhaps not. Strange—when I first saw you, I thought you were human." He cocked his head to the side like a bird studying a wriggling earthworm. Sarah's mouth opened and no sound came out.

"I am a human," she said with a furrowed brow, recalling a conversation she had with Benedict and Antonius: _but I am a human. _"Your first guess was right."

"You can do magic, my lady," he replied gravely. "Humans cannot do magic. Therefore, by the rules of logic, you are not human."

"My, information travels fast," Sarah muttered under her breath. Then, louder, "I wasn't born with magic, Jareth gave it to me when I solved the Labyrinth. There's a difference."

"Not in your case." Lord Fellmarch seemed to be enjoying himself, smiling a wicked smile.

"Look, I don't know where you're going with this," started Sarah impatiently, "but you're wrong. I'm going to go look at the books now. Nice talking to you." She began to walk on past Fellmarch's table, to the other side of the large room.

"I would listen, if I were you," the marsh light said ominously to her back. Sarah stopped, sighed, and turned around again.

"I don't think so. I think that you're playing with me, like you play with trolls in the marshlands."

"Then let me indulge my curiosity," he said. "Wait a moment."

Sarah, exasperated now, stood still. She didn't know what she was expecting; Fellmarch to talk more, or something like that. Maybe she didn't think at all, just stood there and looked across to the window and the clouds outside.

So all she saw was a streak of light, too fast to follow with her eyes, and a ripping pain along the length of her left arm.

Sarah gasped , mind reeling, and felt her knees go weak with the sudden shock; she leaned against the bookcase for support before lifting her arm to study it. The gauzy cloth of her sleeve was slashed and a streak of red had bloomed against the blue-veined alabaster of her inner forearm. In the seconds that she stared at it, she watched it ooze up and trickle down the entire length of her arm, from wrist to elbow. She began to breath hard, eyes fixated on the red, the white, and the pale marble below. A drop of scarlet splashed against the floor.

"What did you do?" she half-shrieked, half-mumbled. She pushed her torn sleeve upwards on her arm. Her eyes lifted to search the room; and there, the marsh light, standing in front of her on the floor. He had caught some of her falling blood in one hand.

"A test," he replied calmly, looking up. Entirely unruffled, but for his stained hand.

"This... this..." Her mind was entranced with the blood. "I could bleed to death. P-people kill themselves like this." Vaguely, she thought to wrap it in something. _Try to stop the blood flow._

"Don't fret," Fellmarch said. "If you were fatally injured, the blood would be gushing. I don't think that it is as bad as you think."

He sounded remarkably self-satisfied, she realized with horror. _What the hell..?_

But the blood wasn't gushing out of her arm. It was crimson, yes, absolutely covered now, but it did not seem to be...

Gingerly, Sarah reached down with one finger to explore the depth of the wound. And... found... nothing?

She rubbed harder, removing the blood to stare at the flesh underneath. She was rewarded with a twinge of light pain and, looking, she saw a thin white line at her wrist; at the bend of her elbow, was a red tear. As she watched, the redness sealed itself and became pink, then a smooth white. Then the white line at her wrist was gone, leaving no scar behind.

Sarah might have been watching for thirty seconds. By the end, nothing was left but sticky, staining red blood. All she could manage to do was look down at her companion, eyes pleading.

"It is as I thought," he commented, pleased and uncaring of her fear. "Not human."

"I am human," she said desperately. "You... you did something."

"Not at all." Fellmarch jumped into the air, taking flight. He buzzed in front of her for a moment. "Here, if you don't believe me. Follow. There's a mirror on the other side of the room."

He became a streak of light again, flying across the width of the library and heading towards the door. There was, she saw, a large decorative mirror hanging on the wall. Sarah followed slowly, hoping for an explanation but fearful of the marsh light's "tests".

"I'm quite surprised that you haven't noticed a difference yourself," he said as she got closer. "You do have a mirror of your own, do you not? Perhaps the change has been too gradual in the past weeks."

"What are you talking about?" asked Sarah numbly, avoiding the reflective glass. Fellmarch shook his head and motioned her in front of the mirror. Reluctantly, she moved in front of it and looked. It was much clearer than the one in her bathroom. Much clearer.

A figure carved out of stone stood before her—skin of white marble, coral lips, gray-green jade eyes, hair spun out of the darkest carnelian, and deep ruby red for her burgundy velvet gown. The leftover blood on her arm was a garnet inlay. This wasn't her. This wasn't her. This wasn't her.

The eyes widened in response to her own movement, and the trembling was certainly the same.

"I don't understand," Sarah whispered. "I've changed." _Into something rich and strange._ It was as if she had been... concentrated, compressed down to the essence of herself, leaving purer stuff behind. She was reminded of nothing so much as her step-cousins—they had very clearly been Others at the wedding reception. They had sort of glow about them, not resulting from any inner light, but from being _clearer_ than anything else in the room. And yet, if that were true, shouldn't she be feeling more herself, rather than less herself?

"I think that you should ask His Majesty about this," suggested the marsh light in his serpentine voice. "He's the only person I know who can heal themselves like that." He paused, thoughtfully, and added offhandedly— "You may look like one of the Shining Ones, but they always die when I cut them that badly." He grinned at her roguishly, flexing his blood-covered hand... which was very much clawed, as she noticed now. "If you'll excuse me, I was looking for a book when you came in."

And he zipped away, leaving Sarah standing behind. A wave of repulsion overcame her and she fled from the room, out the door and down the library hallway, leaving the evil little marsh light and the benevolent griffin-door behind. When she came to the star room, she turned blindly down a corridor. A minute of running brought her to another pair of doors, but not the lion ones, off to the side, that she had expected. These were emblazoned with a field of blossoms and directly blocked her way.

Sarah didn't have the energy to go back the way she came. She pulled on the door handle, hoping to see something comforting on the other side. Surprisingly enough, it opened. A sweet-scented breeze wafted into her face, greeting her with its embrace.

Sarah walked, spellbound, into the rose garden.

It was a courtyard of sorts, bound on all sides by the stone castle walls, but the verdant plant life inside removed any feeling of enclosure. A path of worn stones led from her feet into the flowers and curved out of sight. A small patch of green grass separated the door and the beginning of the garden. Then there was a medium-sized tree to shade the path, a pale pink cherry in bloom; this was followed by a sea of sweet-peas, then taller snapdragons, followed by a profusion of roses of all colors and types. There were rose bushes and rose trees, and climbing roses on trellises and trailing up the walls of the castle. Their smell perfumed the air.

Sarah stepped onto the path and felt tears pricking at her eyes—the flowers were so familiar and innocent and homey.Her grandmother, years dead, had raised roses in the backyard. Sarah's earliest memories were dyed yellow, white, pink and red from petals. To see them here, now, when she felt so forlorn, was almost too much to bear. The girl walked into the midst of the garden, feeling her trembling grow as the moments passed. A few turns brought a marble bench into sight, nestled under a burgeoning arch of wisteria and white roses. The girl collapsed onto it gratefully, drawing up her knees to her chest and burying her face into the cloth of her dress.

She didn't know what to think. She didn't know what had happened. She was still in shock from Fellmarch's attack and subsequent revelation, still in shock from seeing her reflection in a clear clean mirror. Change had always unnerved her, but this was stranger than most. The radical transformation that her daily life had experienced had moved to her outer appearance as well. Looks are only skin deep—but the full import was only now crashing down upon her. The less tangible change had been easier to deal with. But now this; this, she couldn't deny.

_That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet. _

_I am me. I am myself, no matter what magic I can do, no matter where I live, no matter what I look like._

But who was she? Was she the hard, cold, shining person in the mirror? Beautiful and cruel, a female version of the Goblin King? No, that was an over-simplification. Jareth was both of those things, but more besides. _Looks are only skin-deep. I am Sarah-daughter-of-Robert-sister-of-Toby-friend-of-Dinah. I am Sarah-castle-dweller-apprentice-of-Jareth-defeater-of-the-Labyrinth. I am not one, but all of these things. I am more._ The lack of jeans and tennis-shoes didn't destroy the one self, just as the addition of them wouldn't destroy the other. But... she might exist easily with both selves, but she could only live in one of the worlds. How to survive without killing half of her soul?

And then there was her arm, smooth and flawless despite the bloody gash that had been there ten minutes before. This, she could not factor into the equations of her life. This, she could neither comprehend, account for, nor deal with. It was an unknown. It destroyed all the reassurances she had created for herself.

So Sarah clutched her knees and wept from sheer frustration, alone beneath the nodding flowers, loudly and softly by turns. The sun sank lower and lower in the sky, casting the high-walled courtyard into shadow. Eventually her sobs trailed off into numbness; she lay on the bench, curled on her side, staring into infinity.

Some time later, the measured sound of boots against stone came towards her. Kind of him, to give her warning rather than appearing instantly before her. She couldn't bring herself to care. She didn't look up.

He sat down next to her on the cool bench, near her head. There was silence.

"What happened?" he asked quietly after a moment. Sarah didn't answer.

"Sarah." His tone was still calm, quiet, but warning. Reproachful. Sarah shifted listlessly; he put an arm around her and dragged her to a seated position. It kept her pressed and leaning against his side. She left her head on his shoulder, extending her arm in front of them. Drawing aside the torn gauze of her underdress, she revealed the skin beneath, flaked with dried blood. Jareth studied it without comment.

"Are you hurt?" he asked tonelessly. Sarah shook her head slightly.

"Not anymore." Her voice was cold, so cold. Jareth stroked the arm with a finger, rubbing the blood away. Sarah shivered and drew her arm back against her side. "It... it sealed."

"There was a great deal of blood," he murmured. Sarah nodded.

"I'm afraid I left a bit on the floor of your library, too." She didn't sound very sorry. Jareth sighed; Sarah felt it, rather than heard it, a shifting of his body beside hers.

"I heard about the incident from Pidgin," he told her. "Lord Fellmarch has been dealt with. I thought that you might wish—need—some time alone."

A low noise from Sarah, either agreement or acknowledgment.

"Sarah. You understand the import of all of this?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I don't know!" Her voice cracked, earlier panic seeping into it. "No one has told me anything... substantial, nothing helpful; Fellmarch told me I wasn't human, wasn't one of Jeremy's people—I don't know what that means!" She looked up at Jareth for the first time, eyes intense, and met his own tired gaze. How ironic that he should look his most human at the moment. His eyes held weariness, rather than the unreadable otherness that they so often contained.

"You have become like me, I think. As close as I can guess."

"You." She sounded bitter now. "What have you done to me now?"

"This was none of _my_ doing, dear child," Jareth replied, voice taking a harsh and acidic edge. "This time, it was all you. I suspected that this might be the result, but Lord Fellmarch has confirmed it for us. When you spoke your words at the center of the Labyrinth, in this very castle, you caused this change to begin. You confronted me as an equal and proclaimed yourself to be my equal. _I am unique in this world,_ Sarah. My people loved the Aboveground, loved the humans, and dwelt among them. I alone remained here through the years. Everyone else passed away as the human world became less hospitable and they killed their gods. If any of them still live, I am unaware." He speech began with passion and trailed off to resignation as he ended. "I have been alone for a very long time. Forgive me if I do not despair at your circumstances."

Sarah stared at him, slightly awestruck. She had never seen this range of real emotion from him. Previously, she had seen three moods: anger, amusement, and Teaching-Mode. This level of pain and honesty was completely new. It gave her the strength to speak her mind.

"I don't know who I am anymore," the girl said quietly and hopelessly, gaze traveling back down to her hands. Jareth grabbed her chin in one of his own hands and pulled it back up so her could see her eyes.

"Sarah. This doesn't change your personality, or your past, or your present. You are who you are. Don't get caught up in existential angst. There's no point to it." The scornful note in his voice was more familiar, as was the narrowing of his eyes, but the words of comfort were still bizarre. They didn't really help, but it was a kind attempt.

"You're being so nice," she said, dazed, chin still resting in his hand. Jareth's eyes narrowed further.

"I am not _nice,_" he said distinctly. "Don't make that mistake." As if to prove his point, he leaned forward and kissed her very thoroughly on the mouth, first lightly and then more insistently and finally, well, _wow_. Sarah forgot that she wasn't supposed to be attracted to him and responded enthusiastically. Her recently ordeal had left her feeling very free of old inhibitions.

When they finally drew apart, if only inches, coherent thought returned. Her first thought: _Oh, shit_. The game was up. The charade was over. No way to pretend that she didn't want him. Jareth had won.

_Fight or flight_ ran through her head rapidly as she stared at him. _Fight or surrender? Denial or acceptance?_ The hot-blooded part of her (dampened by tears but still alive) roared against the kiss and everything it implied, refusing to give an inch to the Arrogant Bastard. At the same time, it was crying for more physical contact. Conflict, conflict, conflict. She could see the triumph in his face, see the self-satisfaction and smugness. And yet...

A tiny tiny voice in her mind, calm and cool, suggested something that left her stunned. There was triumph, yes, for conquering her at last (this game that had been played since she first met him in Toby's nursery, the Labyrinth only being a battle). But triumph suggested desire, and desire suggested weakness.

There, Sarah realized, lay an interesting compromise. If he wanted her enough to be that happy when he got her, she had some sort of power over him. _The seducer is often in danger of becoming the seduced,_ whispered the voice slyly. _It could work!_ cried her mind and her body, _And damn the long term! You want this and, by God, you damn well deserve it!_

He wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

It all happened very quickly. Before she knew it, Sarah had pasted her body more firmly against his and pressed her lips against his—and then his mouth was kissing the base of her jaw, and then down her neck to her collar bone, and then her thinking shut down altogether. Her face buried itself in his mass of pale silky hair; it was just as soft as it had always looked. She was making appreciative noises and her hands were moving along his back and sides and chest, feeling the firm muscle laid upon bone that made up his frame. He murmured things against her skin, and his voice was rough velvet rather than silk.

For awhile, Sarah quite forgot about Lord Fellmarch and inhumanity and bloody arms. Faced with other distractions, it seemed very unimportant. It continued being unimportant for quite a few hours and remained so during a leisurely dinner. Jareth continued to distract her very effectively for the rest of the evening. When she finally fell asleep at the end of the night, the feeling of a warm body curled around her own, under cool sheets, kept any troubling dreams at bay.

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A/N: Woo! That's then end of that. I'm exhausted; it was _a lot_ harder to write than I expected. That's part of the reason that I didn't update last weekend, and I apologize for that. My computer also fell ill for a couple of days, keeping me from working.

So a lot happened in this chapter, and I'd just like to warn anybody from making judgments quite yet—this is not nearly the end! Indeed, it's only a little past the halfway point. More plot twists and turns ahead. Sarah _will_ return to the Aboveground. In no way will Sarah and Jareth be all happy-happy lovey-dovey from now on. So, well, there.

Anyway, thank you to reviewers; hope you enjoyed this belated (but long and eventful!) chapter. **Acantha Mardivey, Ophelia Eternal, Scary Miss Mary, Bex Drake, Cyber Keiko, Awhina, Moonjava, Draegon-fire, Tor Walker, Lhiata, Cariah Delonne, Tabbicat 12, Velf, Mav1, Nuke, Just A Starving Writer, Pruningshears, Midnight Lady, Golden Usagi, Kaio, Jade Ryouko, and Amora-Ryuko: **thank you all very very very much!


	14. Where Are You Going Now, My Love?

Chapter Fourteen: Where Are You Going Now, My Love?

The first time that Sarah woke up, it was very early in the morning. The light in the room was dim and cool, blue-tinged; near dawn, but still dark. Mentally and physically exhausted as she was, her mind wasn't up to much computation. Sensory input was acknowledged by the mind, but not digested.

She was laying in bed, hair spread wildly about her. Her body—bare all the way down, guessing from the feeling of cloth against skin—was curled around a warm unmoving mass. Another body. One leg was thrown slightly over it, or him, rather, and her face was buried in the crook of his neck. A masculine arm was resting across her waist. He smelled very good. Sarah began to drift off again.

Her bed-partner/pillow breathed deeply and shifted. He muttered something that sounded quite like "damn" before sitting up. More than half-asleep, Sarah whimpered in protest.

"Someone has wished a child away," Jareth said in disgust, voice rough with sleep—a very appealing sound, Sarah decided. She made a vague noise in her throat. His words failed to register. Her eyes closed.

The next thing she knew, she was alone in bed with the blankets tucked around her. The Goblin King was standing over her, impeccably dressed and entirely unruffled.

"Know that I find this intensely frustrating," he said sourly. "With luck, they won't want the brat back and I'll be able to return in an hour or two. Please sleep as long as you like. I rather enjoy the sight of you naked in my bed."

"Mmmpgh," she mumbled in reply. Sarah turned onto her back so she could see him better, squinting against the light. He looked resigned.

"I'll see you this afternoon." He paused and stared, an odd look on his face. Almost wistful. He bent down then and kissing her ferociously on the mouth, just for a moment—and then he was gone.

Sarah shivered and closed her eyes.

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The third time she awoke, she woke up for real; an infuriatingly bright ray of light was drilling relentlessly into her eyelids.

_Damn sunlight,_ she thought irritably. _Waking me up. Stupid birds singing by the window. Don't they know people are trying to sleep in?_

Irrational irritation with the world was a hallmark of Sarah's morning moods. She gathered her tangled hair into one mass, out of her face, and sat up grumpily. The feeling of cool air caressing her bare upper body drove all vaguely-homicidal thoughts from her mind. She looked down and then around.

_I am naked... I am in someone else's bed... because..._

_... I had mad passionate sex with the Goblin King last night. _

_"_Oh, my god."

Sarah groaned again, with more gusto, and let her face fall into her hands. Yes, she remembered now. Very vividly. Oh, yes. Some of those memories were quite tactile. She could feel her face turning bright red.

_Just once would have been forgivable. I could have blamed it on shock or something. I was, er, disturbed. Grieving for my lost humanity. Easily taken advantage of. Just once would have been okay. But how the hell do I explain four times? Can't reason myself out of that._

"I would like to take this moment to say 'holy crap'," spoke Sarah out loud. It didn't do much to assuage her feelings. The girl spotted her clothing from yesterday tossed over an armchair on the other side of the room. Hmm. _Don't remember that._ Guessing rightly that the situation wouldn't disappear if she went back to sleep and ignored it, Sarah scooted over and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. This wasn't particularly easy, between the width of the bed and the slight discomfort in her pelvic region. _Well, it was to be expected. I dare say it was worth it. I believe that I quite encouraged the actual process._

No. No regrets, not exactly. Just embarrassment and a sort of... exasperation, really. A what-the-hell-do-I-do-now feeling. Not to mention that the entire mess from yesterday was still hanging ominously overhead, just waiting to crash down and squish her to a bloody pulp.

Ugh. _Alright. Enough with melodramatic analogies. I will take a bath, get dressed, and shuffle back down to where I live. I'll figure this out then._

So she did. The bathroom was located with no trouble; she had used it the night before to scrub blood from her forearm (Jareth had needed to stop her before she rubbed the skin raw). It was of the same archaic construction as her own facilities, though considerably more luxurious. The bathtub was more of a small pond sunken into the marble floor than an actual bathtub. Very nice, once it was full, but she had to leave the faucet running for ten minutes first. The warm water was heaven to her sore body and the soap smelled lovely. Rather like... Jareth. Hmph. _It takes no great leap of the imagination to figure out why. And now I smell like the Goblin King. _

Was that a good thing or a bad thing? What on earth was she going to do?

Sarah donned yesterday's clothes, a little the worse for wear, and left her damp hair to hang free. She probably looked like the embodiment of a woman who has spent the night over, but there was no helping it. Thankfully, she was unlikely to meet anybody in the hallways that was likely to care. But she cared.

She left Jareth's chambers quietly, shutting the door softly behind her. Down the spiraling stairs (surely this building had a record numbers of staircases), down a short passageway... and yes. Here was the star room in all its glory, brighter today because of the unobscured sunlight. She emerged in front of the owl-point and smiled. Mystery solved. The rest of the way was easy—just walk until she found the throne room, and back through familiar territory to her room.

When she passed the throne room, the doors were firmly shut. Sarah could here a great mass of beings inside, squalling and chattering with every fiber of their raucous goblin bodies. She heard something that might have been the wail of a young child. Stifling a cry in her own throat, she lifted her skirts and broke into a run, away from the troubling truth behind the doors. She was not ready to think about that. Not at all, no way, nuh-uh.

Back in the familiar environs of her chamber, Sarah changed swiftly into fresh clothes—blue this time, a comforting color. Then she couldn't stay still. She paced from side to side, growing increasingly nervous.

What to do, what to do, what to do? She needed time to think. She needed time... to think. Just figure stuff out. Who she was, what she wanted, where she was going. What she was going to do. Was she even human anymore? If not... then what? The question was too much for her mind to comprehend. _Not human? Not human? Not human? What did that _mean?

It was as if she had never really believed in all of this. Jareth, the goblins, the Labyrinth, Jeremy, Angharad, the step-cousins, the Middleground. It had never really sunk in. A pleasant diversion or a frightening experience, something to be dealt with. _No, that's a bad way to put it._ Of course she believed in them. But... but...

It had always had an end in sight. She left the Labyrinth when she finished it. She left the Daras after the wedding. She would leave the castle after she learned enough magic. That was exactly the problem. The Underground has never been the "real" world, just a brief detour. _How could I have been so deluded, to think myself so separate from it? I am as much a denizen of this place as Hoggle or Meggedy. Lady Sarah, pendant around her neck, practicing petty magic and wandering the Otherwood with the children. _

She had to get out. She couldn't get out.

Sarah spotted the tome of magic theory laying calmly on the table. She swept it up in one hand, hesitated, and left her room again. Her feet—quite unconnected to anything in her mind—kept going until she was out of the castle, down the stairs, and striding through the Goblin City. The looks she received were mostly perfunctory; only the children saw any novelty in her presence anymore. When the girl reached the edge of town, she hesitated again. Where was she going? To the Otherwood, to get advice from Addie? Probably she could understand her predicament more than anyone else in the Labyrinth. She had slept with Jareth too, once upon a time 4,000 years ago. Addie would warm some spiced cider for her, sit her down, and show her how silly she was being.

Reassurance wouldn't solve any of her problems. Ariadne's motherly understanding would just summon the tears that she had cried the day before. Sarah couldn't go to the Otherwood.

The walls of the Labyrinth loomed before her, their serpentine lengths beckoning. _Come,_ they called. _Lose yourself in our turns. You can hide here among us. You can hide well._

Tempting, very tempting. A couple of years ago, she had found her self in the corridors of the Labyrinth. Maybe now, troubled again, she could do so once more. Sarah took a step forward, and then another; she pulled her protecting pendant from her bodice and let it hand free in front of her. She crossed tentatively over the threshold, smooth paving stones under her slippered feet. The floor didn't open up and no monsters jumped out to swallow her. She relaxed, slightly, and choose a direction. Then she went.

_All I want is a nice secluded place, far from the castle, where I can sit and read. And ponder my existence. Screw Jareth_ _and his advice. Okay, bad word choice._

"_He's_ never doubted himself," she muttered fiercely. "Bastard." She saw a patch of eye-moss turn sharply to glance at her. Sarah glared back at it. "What? Never seen anyone talk to themselves before?"

It averted its eyes quickly.

"That's right."

Now she was sounding like _him,_ snapping at everything all the time. Yeek. Sarah clutched the books against her chest and moved faster. _Fly away, little bird._ _Run away from all of your problems, like a good little avoidant._

No. That wasn't fair. She just needed space. She wasn't running away.

_Right._

The Labyrinth here was fairly tame, but the area was getting gradually wilder. Weeds and wildflowers were pushing up between the not-so-smooth rock on the ground. The walls were overgrown with ivy, covering most of the sandy beige masonry, and the leaves twitched with unseen life. Turning around, Sarah couldn't see the castle towers behind her. Far enough.

A few more turns brought her to a niche in the wall, furnished with a nice shady bench. How convenient.

Deep breath, in and out. Again, and again. The quick pattering of her heartbeat slowed into a more measured rhythm, but the leaden feeling in her gut remained. She tried to draw serenity around her like a woolen cloak. The result was more like fishnet.

_First, concentrate on exterior things._ Clear blue sky, bright sun. Olive-jade-emerald leaves, warm rocky walls. Deep blue velvet and paler gauze. A single singing bird in the background, the wind whistling over the tops of the walls. The heat of the sunlight pouring over her hair and face.

_Close your eyes. What's the matter?_

Confusion. _I am changing._ She couldn't stop it any more than she could halt the march of time. Gradual change wasn't so bad, no, but she had been hurtling along ever since her birthday. Sarah felt rather as though someone had pushed her off a cliff. Who could she blame? Her mother, Jeremy, Jareth, Angharad?

No, herself. Always herself. It had all started when she wished Toby away to the goblins. She might have left the Underground, but she had never escaped the Labyrinth.

Hopefully there was someone with a trampoline waiting at the bottom of the cliff. Otherwise she was going to meet the ground with a tremendous _splat. _

She could stay here forever, sleeping in the Goblin King's bed and dining at his table. Toby would grow up in the Aboveground, his half-sister fading into hazy memory. Her father would grieve for the last remnant of his youth and failed marriage, the troublesome daughter as dark as his ex-wife. Karen would support him, wondering if she had driven her step-daughter away. Dinah would cry and Ben would wrap her in his gentle arms. Aaron would move on, find a new girlfriend, go to college and get married; maybe he would always remember the quiet girl he had kissed in high school. Sarah would become a news story, a throbbing ache, a statistic, one more lost child. They would never find a suspect, never find a body, never discover her living on the streets fifteen years later. No longer human, she'd be a faded photo and a wistful memory.

Fifteen and hurting, she had rejected this. At eighteen, she still couldn't bear to cause that much pain. So easy, but so... unfair. Maybe life wasn't fair, but that was no excuse for her to act so selfishly. Sarah had to sort all of this out herself. Figure out who she was, figure out what Jareth was to her, and get back home.

Sarah opened her gray-green eyes. She opened the deep red book.

No index. Typical. The girl flipped through it, watching closely for any mention of traveling between the worlds. Conjuration, enchantment, healing... no, no, no. Illusion? Interesting, but no. Summoning spirits... definitely not.

Some four hundred pages later, her breath caught in her throat. "..._walking the layers of reality..."_

She read on.

"... complicated to transport oneself from one point to another. This action requires extreme powers of concentration and a great deal of practice. Most apprentices in the Art spend many months, if not years, transporting inanimate objects or small animals before they attempt the spell on themselves. First, one must have a clear understanding of where one is and where one wishes to be. Secondly, one must have an acute knowledge of _oneself_. Mistakes can lead to lost body parts or even death. At the very least, one will appear in an unexpected location. Far more difficult is the journey from the Underground to the Aboveground, which traverses more than just physical space..."

Well. Well, well, well. The gall of that man. The sheer nerve.

Was she surprised, really? Had she really expected Jareth to just let her go once he had lured her back into his kingdom? No, she wasn't that foolish. Not at heart. Above all other things, the Goblin King was a devious man. He was other things too—a careful teacher, a skillful lover, a mediator to his people. But he wanted her, for whatever reason (_not just revenge, there's more to it than that)_, and he was going to keep her. If it took lies to make her tractable, so be it.

_Fuck it. I can't deal with everything at once. I'll think about Jareth after I get _myself_ straightened out. In the mean time..._

"Jareth's not the only wizard in the Goblin Kingdom," she said aloud, grimly, still staring at the book in her lap. She hadn't found Daedalus yet.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sarah's actions depended on one supposition : _if Daedalus wants to be found, he'll let you find him._ There was no way that she could search the entire kingdom.

So the girl just picked random pathways as they came, avoiding any of the puzzles that could put her off course. She fell into no oubliettes, lucky enough, but she now knew to pick 'up' when the Helping Hands asked where she wanted to go. Eventually she passed out of the stone-walled area of the Labyrinth and ended up in the hedge maze. By then her feet were tired and her abdomen was rumbling to itself.

_Definitely _a bad idea to just eat anything that she found growing here. A conjured apple would give her no nourishment, but it would at least fool her stomach for awhile. Sarah stretched out her hand, palm up, and a crystal appeared in its center. Good. She mentally prodded the magic inside, urging it to become golden yellow, shiny, crisp on the outside and juicy in the middle, sweet and tart...

Poof. Well, not poof. But there was her apple, a perfectly reasonable Golden Delicious. Excellent. Sarah took a bite out of it, pleased when it crunched pleasantly and the juice filled her mouth. It even tasted right. Her conjuration was improving.

She stood there for a few minutes to finish eating. When she was done, she threw the core up into the air, where it disappeared without a trace. Sarah smiled slightly. She really was improving.

A step forward again, and then an interruption from in front of her.

"Hallo?"

A face appeared from behind one of the hedges, followed by a body and feet. It belonged to a sweet-looking boy—an undeveloped fifteen or sixteen, she guessed. His eyes were large and his chin pointed, his curly hair an unlikely shade of teal. His was clothed in dark brown and turquoise; the apparel was richly colored and well-cut, but it had clearly seen some wear-and-tear recently. There was a smudge of grime on his cheek.

"You're not a foundling," said Sarah, frowning. The boy looked uneasy.

"I... no." He took a few steps closer, eyes searching her face. He raised his chin a little. "My name is Filip. Could you... would... I need to find the end of the Labyrinth."

Oh. Oh ho. So that's how it was. Sarah felt a wave of anger well up inside of her.

"Good luck, kid. I'm still looking for it, myself."

His big eyes got larger.

"I h-have to get there. I'll be in trouble if I don't get my sister back..."

"Well, you should have thought of that before you wished her away!" Sarah snapped. The kid shrank back. "You live in the Underground! You knew that the Goblin King would actually come to take her!"

"I thought it would be easy," he muttered under his breath, a thread of surliness weaving through his uncertainty. A spoiled child, unused to opposition.

_And how were you any different, my girl?_

Sarah sighed, relenting. "I can't take you to the castle myself. It actually serves my purposes to keep you searching as long as possible, but I feel sorry for you. I came from over there." Sarah waved her arms behind her. "It's been a fairly circuitous path, but I haven't been walking for more than an hour. Just keep going this way, until you leave the hedges for stone walls. That means you're close. From then on, you'll be able to see the castle towers from over the walls. Just follow them. Don't leave the hedges for anything but the stone-walled area. Understand?"

Filip nodded. He didn't have any choice but to trust her.

"Do you know where I could find some food?" he asked, a little shyly. Lips twisting into a sardonic smile, Sarah quickly conjured a couple of apples for him.

"Here. These will keep you going, but please don't take food from anyone else. Unless it's a woman named Addie, but... never mind. I doubt you'll see her. Do _not _take food from Jareth." She handed the fruit to the boy quickly. "Good luck." She moved past him.

"Wait!"

"Hmm?" Sarah turned.

"Who are you?" Poor boy, he didn't want to be alone again. He had never found a Hoggle to befriend him.

"... my name is Sarah," she said. "Just another lost traveler. Do a favor for me, will you? When you go home, be nice to your sister. She deserves it."

She escaped then, turning a corner before his puppy-dog eyes lured her into helping him further. He obviously wasn't a clueless human like her; he'd find his way to the end. Probably Filip would go home mostly un-scarred; perhaps an appreciation for his baby sister would linger, but he wouldn't have an obsessive Goblin King on his tail. Huh. She was almost jealous.

Sarah heard Filip's footsteps fade off into the distance. Turn, turn, another turn... Sarah halted.

There was a house in front of her, a sort of hobbit-hole dug into the side of a hill. She could feel her mouth gaping open.

"This couldn't have been here when Filip walked past," she told it severely. "He would have stopped here instead."

"Quite right, my dear."

A figure walked from the side of the house toward her... someone new. A gray-bearded man with white hair, black-eyed and olive skinned. He was dressed in dark gray robes and leaning on a heavy walking stick. His eyes reminded her of a bird's eyes, dark but bright and watchful. Birds, wings, flight...

"Daedalus," she said uncertainly. The man smiled warmly. It was a grandfather's sort of smile.

"Exactly. Pardon me for staying out of sight until the boy passed. He needs to get through the Labyrinth on his own."

"And me?"

"You, I think, could use some guidance. And you've earned it."

"How did you know that?"

"I am well acquainted with the Labyrinth. It was quite worried when you came storming in here after avoiding it so assiduously for weeks. It provided you with a place to sit for awhile and went to summon me."

Sarah blinked.

"The Labyrinth is _alive_?"

"To a certain extent. Would you mind continuing this conversation inside? I'm a feeble old man."

'Feeble' was the last word Sarah would have used to describe him, but she allowed him to herd her into the house. It was small but compelling; the ground rose into a steep hill here, giving a person room to build into the side of it. The front door was heavy and square, flanked by two round windows on either side. A low fence was placed some distance before the door, allowing room for a couple of garden patches and a gravelly pathway. The interior was reminiscent of Addie's home, cozy and slightly cluttered. The front room was littered with odds and ends, pushed against piles of books. Sarah was pretty sure that she saw a cassette player and an old Gameboy on one of the shelves. She blinked.

"Please sit down, don't mind the mess. Yes, there—just put those books on the table. There." Sarah found herself sitting at a small table with a mug of water in front of her. "Would you like something to eat? Addie Otherwood just sent me a fresh loaf of bread this morning."

"Sure. Thanks."

He bustled around the house cleaning things up, letting her eat and drink in peace. When she was done, settled into a chair across from her.

"Well child, you've certainly changed since I last saw you. How old are you now?"

"Eighteen." She decided not to ask him where he had seen her before. "I'm sure that age is the least part of the changes I've gone through," she added dully. Daedalus chuckled.

"Don't look so stricken, my dear. Experience is the only real transforming agent in our lives. Everything else is superficial."

Sarah, faced with magic and supernatural recuperative abilities, raised her eyebrows.

"I've always been an engineer at heart," he told her, switching the subject. "Magic is only one medium that I use in my creation. The Aboveground has done some wondrous things since I was last there."

"You don't visit it?" she asked curiously. Daedalus shook his head, shaggy pale hair swinging.

"Oh, no. I don't have the freedom of Jareth, or even Ariadne. I've thought about it for years—I've come to the conclusion that, for most intents and purposes, I was killed in the backlash when the Labyrinth returned to the Underground so long ago. I'm just a ghost in the machine.

"But I digress. I was talking about the Aboveground. Just think of how different the world of a hundred years ago is from the world today! I've existed for an extraordinarily long time, so the changes in the world Above have always fascinated. Bits and pieces of technology, things of that sort, filter down to me every now and again. I like to pick through them and take them apart.

"My point, though—it took thousands of years of civilization for humans to fly through the air. Years and years of little change, followed by a couple hundred of rapid innovation. Did something about their structure change? Did they grow smarter? No. Experience, I say, is the only thing that makes them different from their forbears."

Daedalus sat back and sipped on a cup of tea.

"Don't let me monopolize the conversation, child. How have you been?"

"Not so well," Sarah replied hesitantly.

"Having trouble adapting?"

"Is everything that obvious?"

Daedalus laughed out loud. _How pleasant, to be so entirely content with one's existence. _

"If I walked past you on the street, could I tell that you were going through a great mental ordeal? No, I could not. But I know of you and I know that you've had many surprises thrust upon you. It helps that I am very old and wise." This with a wink. Sarah was forced to smile in response.

"I just need a little time to sort things out," she mumbled. "It's a little overwhelming. Yesterday, I... I realized that I wasn't quite... _human_ anymore. Because of something did when I solved the Labyrinth."

"Yes, Jareth told me of it after you left the Labyrinth. He was quite furious, you know."

"I can imagine. Idiot. It's not like anything happened to _him._"

"I don't think that he'd agree with you about that."

"He can think anything he wants to, it won't make it true. Jareth is... he's... I need to get away from him for awhile, so I can think by myself. And I need to tell my family I'm okay." The words began to tumble out of her mouth, freed by the kindly concern in his face. "I just can't let them worry about me anymore, they deserve better than that. That's why I was looking for you, really, I need someone to send me back into the Aboveground. Jareth always said that I could go when I learned how to transport myself, but..." Sarah gestured to the red book, which she had placed on the table in front of her.

"The book says that I won't be able to do that for _years,_ maybe. Jareth was just trying to keep me quiet. A month's bad enough, Daedalus, I can't leave everyone wondering for that long. Maybe Jareth would just come back and fetch me the moment he noticed I was gone, but I have to at least tell Dad and Dinah and Toby. I _have_ to. Could you please help me? I'm desperate."

Now the man was thoughtful, no longer jolly. He regarded her seriously.

"Are you sure that's what you want? To return to the Aboveground?"

"Yes. I need to get away from here to think clearly." _I have to get away from the Goblin King._

"Jareth will be angry."

"He's a grown-up. He'll get over it. I've always been a bother to him, I'm sure he won't mind."

"Is that so?" he murmured, disbelief clear in his voice. "He's lonely here, you know."

"I have to live my life!" Sarah half-yelled, pent-up frustration pouring out. "I'm not saying that I'll never see him again," _I do want to see him again damn him how could I not how could I not, _"but I need a break. Just to clear my mind and work through my issues. He'll be fine."

Strange, that the Goblin King should figure so largely into her decisions. That his feelings should matter. When had he twined so thoroughly into her life?

"I see." A pause. "My dear child, I do understand your predicament. If you're absolutely sure that you want this, I can make you a better offer."

"I'm sure."

"So be it. Sarah, there are many layers of reality, the Underground and Aboveground being two of them. Time is another. You need time. This is my proposal: I will send you back to the Aboveground, just a moment after you left it in the first place. No one will have noticed your absence. You will have four weeks to think without any interference from the Underground."

"... you can do that?" Sarah's spirits lifted, slightly, in the presence of hope.

"I can. It's a major use of magic but I am, as I said, very old and very wise. Just remember that you cannot contact the Goblin Kingdom for the duration of those four weeks—you will still be here during that time. Understand?"

"Yes. Yes, I understand." Sarah jumped out of the chair, grabbing the book in her hand. "How soon can you do it? I need to leave before Filip reaches the Goblin City."

Daedalus didn't ask her who she was talking about. "Right away, if you wish. I don't have anything better to do with myself."

"Good. Good." Sarah felt a tiny pinch of guilt, and she gave into it. _Seems like I'll never have peace, wherever I am_. "Could I borrow a pen and paper to write a note to Jareth?"

"Certainly." Materials appeared on the table. Sarah uncorked a bottle of ink and dipped the quill pen into it. Her hand hovered over the parchment. _Well. What do I say? I'll be back in a few? Don't wait up for me? Sorry, bye, I had a good time last night? Thanks for the support? Eat shit, asshole?_

That wouldn't do at all. She thought for a moment more before writing:

"Love is not all: It is not meat nor drink   
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain,   
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink   
and rise and sink and rise and sink again.   
Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath   
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;   
Yet many a man is making friends with death   
even as I speak, for lack of love alone.   
It well may be that in a difficult hour,   
pinned down by need and moaning for release   
or nagged by want past resolutions power,   
I might be driven to sell you love for peace,   
Or trade the memory of this night for food.   
It may well be. I do not think I would."

Sarah signed it with her name, nervously. She doubted the Edna St. Vincent Millay would mind. Maybe it was a little too revealing, but it might help assuage Jareth's ire when he found her gone.

When the ink dried, Sarah folded the paper into quarters and handed it to Daedalus. He stuck it in a pocket.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes." She sighed. "The way forward is sometimes the way back."

"I'm glad you've remembered my advice, child. I wish you happiness and good luck. Goodbye."

The world dissolved around her, a more gentle transition than being hurtled through the dimensions.

When the stars cleared from her eyes, a veil of darkness hung before them. The air was lightly warm, the feeling of an early summer evening. Sarah turned quickly. Yes, there was the familiar bench, and her oak tree welcoming her home with outstretched branches. There were the floating lights, the emerald grass, the line of the forest in the distance. There was the murmur of the crowd, and the strains of music floating through the night air. There...

... were police cars?

Yes, a number of them whining in the parking lot, strobe lights flashing. Officers were getting out of the car and yelling to the gathered teens—the band on the stage, Ben and Aaron and Vince and Tim, had put down their instruments in surprise.

Sarah tried to figure out what was happening, a month ago. Now. There had been a concert, the band was playing, the fairies had come out to dance. It was Beltane, May Eve. Some kids had brought along beer... oh, yes. Beer and harder drinks, vodka and whiskey. This was a raid, then.

Some of the kids were trying to discreetly sneak away; a few dark shapes were wandering in her direction. Reality began to close in around her. The red book of magical theory was still clenched in her left hand. Her body was still swathed in her Underground clothes: dark blue velvet overgown, a pale blue undergown with silver threads woven in. Leather slippers, a bit the worse for wear, covered her feet. Her gold-and-silver necklace hung over her breasts, symbol of everything she had lost and gained. Her hair—had it grown noticeably in the past month?—hung free around her face, dark and shining.

Her skin was not glowing in the dark. Thank God for small favors.

Over two years ago, standing in this spot with a dress sweeping around her ankles, she had run home in the rain. Her dog Merlin had been with her then, poor Merlin who had died last winter. But she knew the way home, and she knew that she had to get there without being seen. _I cannot go down there, I can't let the police arrest me, I _cannot_ let everyone see me._

The book was a problem. She bunched her skirts up in both of her hands and clutched the tome against her chest with them. Awkward but functional. _Time to blow this joint._

Sarah ran through the shadows and the moonlight, the darkness like the velvet of her dress and the moonlight as cool and pale as water. The well-trimmed grass gave way to pavement, but her soft shoes made no noise against the concrete. The town was asleep at this time of night. If she had been fully cognizant, Sarah would have realized that the ever-bright street lights were off. She didn't notice the lights flashing on again after she passed them, didn't notice the glowing globes following her, laughing, playing with the electricity. She didn't notice the aid that the Earth-fairies gave her, seeing her as one of their own.

Sarah crossed into her neighborhood, running through neighbors' yards. In one darkened home, an eight-year-old girl looked out her bedroom window and saw Sarah flash past with her honor-guard of fae. In the morning, she'd remember a princess in a cloak of stars. She wouldn't tell anyone, but she'd hold onto that one moment of mystery with a desperate longing, remembering it for all her life.

Lungs burning, hair tangled, face pale, Sarah skidded to a stop on the front porch of the Williams family home. Every room was dark. _Luck_. She pulled on the door handle—locked. A cry rose in her throat. She had to get in. Sarah summoned a crystal thoughtlessly, twisted her hand. A cool brass key settled in her palm. Sarah unlocked the door quietly, opened it quietly, and crept into the strangeness of her home.

Home. Home. She was home. Wasn't she?

Close the door. Go up the stairs, watch out for the creaky one near the landing. Down the hallway (passed Toby's door _very _quietly), into her own bedroom. It was dark in there too, only a little moon- and star-light filtering into her small window. The ceiling seemed so low, the space so enclosing. But here was the peace and quiet that she had been hoping for.

She stripped off her Underground clothes, hanging them up in the back of her closet and pushing other things over them. No one but her ever went into her closet, so it should be safe. The book was easily hidden in a drawer of her vanity.

Sarah donned an over-sized T-shirt, her usual sleeping apparel. In this place, at least. It felt too light and insubstantial. She left her necklace on.

Only thing to do now was crawl under the covers (her gut said that they should be musty, but of course she'd only slept in them the night before). The dry-wall ceiling, patterned with light coming through the blinds, stared back at her.

She still smelled like Jareth. She couldn't go to sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: And there is the end of Chapter Fourteen. Sarah is back home. Now comes the coping.

Questions? Comments? Please review the story or (since is going to read-only mode for a couple of days) send me an email at . Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: **Cariah Delonne, Midnight Lady, Amora-Ryuko, Acantha Mardivey, Solea, Scary Miss Mary, Bex Drake, Eleanora Rose, Awhina, Lil Kawaii Doom, An Entertained Reader, Musicgirl141, Draegon-fire, Golden Usagi, cali-luv, Tellergirl, Velf, Moonjava, Just a Starving Writer, Original Proxy, Mav1, and Kaio ( **yes, they did actually do it. (-; ) Happy Thanksgiving next week to all of you who live in the U.S. of A. Everyone else—happy Thanksgiving anyway.


	15. A New Day, A New Way

Chapter Fifteen: A New Day, A New Way

Life intruded into Sarah's much-needed sleep around 10:30 the next morning. Very distantly came the usual early-Saturday noises: the faint sound of television cartoons, a patter of steps as Toby retrieved something from his room, the low call of her father's voice and the higher reply from Karen. Sarah's mind didn't recognize the sounds for a few hazy moments. She was used to quiet upon waking; if there was any noise at all, it was birdsong in the garden below her balcony. Her brain clicked through several scenarios before she realized the truth: she was back home. In the Aboveground. In her father's house.

This was when Sarah blinked and looked at the red-numbered clock across the room. Time to get up, though it was the last thing she wanted to do. When had she finally fallen asleep? _Two, three, four in the morning? Ugh,_ she groaned mentally._ I feel like I've been hit by a bus._

The girl dragged herself out of bed, stiffly, and pushed to her feet. A stumble across the room brought her to her dresser drawers. She stared into them blankly. Jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. How... odd. Sarah gathered the necessary garments before carrying everything to the bathroom. The hot water of the shower spray washed a layer of numbness away—after twenty minutes she felt more alive if not less conflicted. _More human_, her mind prompted first before rejecting the word sharply. Never human, not anymore.

Sarah dressed mechanically, leaving her hair twisted up in a towel-turban. Stretch-denim and cotton felt constricting after a month of voluminous skirts and high-waisted bodices.

Would nothing be easy ever again?

A hand towel rubbed a hole in the fogged-up mirror, just enough room for Sarah to look herself in her eyes. Such mundane clothing and surroundings helped muffle her new brightness. There was nothing more unflattering than an tiny, old, ugly-tiled bathroom. Her skin was still clear, not quite translucent, her lips red and eyes limpid, but not unreasonably so. Hopefully context would help make her look more normal. Even if people did notice a change in her appearance, what could they say? _You're looking nice, Sarah. Did you sleep well, Sarah? _They definitely _wouldn't_ ask if she'd transcended to a higher level of being. Or whatever the hell she'd actually done.

"Not like you have any choice, m'girl," she muttered to her reflection. "Can't do that pretty trick _he_ uses Aboveground." No need to clarify who _he_ was, but she was reluctant to use names.

_Go say good morning to your family,_ she commanded herself firmly. _Go eat breakfast. NOW._

Bare feet were just as quiet as her slippers had been. Sarah crept into the kitchen apprehensively, stomach twisting into knots. It was empty. She could see Karen through the windows, kneeling in a flower bed. Okay. Food sounded unappetizing; she glanced into the family room.

Deep breath.

"G'morning," greeted Toby, looking up from the TV with big blue eyes. Sarah's heart twisted, to match her stomach—impulsively, she bent down to kiss Toby on the top of his head. He dodged away, smirking at her. Of course he hadn't missed her. She hadn't been gone. She'd eaten dinner with him last night.

"I see that Sleeping Beauty had arisen," said her father ironically from the corner, hidden behind an open newspaper. Sarah summoned her voice, rusty as it was.

"Hey, Dad," she said hoarsely. Her feet rooted into the carpet, leaving her standing aimlessly.

"I didn't hear you come in last night. Stay out very late?"

Hmm. This sounded dangerous. His voice was deceptively calm. _Better tread carefully._

"Not really. I came in around eleven, I think. I was surprised that everyone was already asleep."

"Left before the ruckus, then?"

"...the ruckus?" Sarah tried to smother a wince. He'd heard about the police at the concert, then.

"I think you know what I mean." His voice took a sharp turn. "I guess I should be glad that we didn't have to pick you up from the police station."

Sarah searched for a good response but found none. Robert Williams lowered his paper slowly, taking the time to refold it on his lap. He looked up at his teenage daughter. A beat passed while Sarah held her breath. His eyes widened slightly, a rim of white showing and disappearing quickly. A long moment of silence and he seemed to gather himself.

"You're eighteen now," he began, as if trying to explain away any change. Thinking he just hadn't noticed until now. "I suppose you'll do what you want. But Sarah, please, I don't want to see you in trouble. Dinah's a good girl, but I don't like you hanging out with Aaron. Not if this is the kind of crowd _he _hangs out with."

"_What_ crowd?" asked Sarah. Her eyebrows lowered. "What are you trying to say?"

"Don't take that tone with me, young lady. Answer me truly—were you drinking last night?"

"_No," _she exclaimed, voice strangled. "Dad! I'm smarter than that."

"Did you know that there was alcohol there?"

"I... yes, I saw a few people," _a lot of people,_ "drinking, but they weren't causing any trouble. I tried to ignore it." At least she was pretty sure she had. The memories of the night had been rather overwhelmed by the past month in the Underground.

"They were underage, Sarah. That's illegal, you realize?"

The pedantic tone of his voice was beginning to grate on her nerves. _Yes, Dad, I realize that. Who cares. I had more important things to worry about, like, oh, being kidnapped. _Her necklace hung heavy beneath her concealing shirt, full-to-brimming with her secrets. She wanted to shout them from the rooftops. She had come home to reassure her family; now, of course, they were completely oblivious. Any sacrifice she had made, Sarah realized, would be known only to herself. No congratulations or thanks would be waiting for her. No pats-on-the-head or calming advice. Sarah would have to stand on her own two feet.

"I am sorry if I've done something wrong," she said in a clipped voice. "I refrained from breaking the law myself. I left quickly when I saw the police on the way. I was not arrested. I fail to see the problem."

The muscles in Robert's jaw tightened and shifted.

"You fail to see the problem? Perhaps your attitude could use a little adjustment. I hope you didn't have any plans for the weekend, because you're staying here and rethinking some of your ideas. The phone is off-limits too. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, sir," Sarah replied frigidly. She was standing with a straight back, arms across her chest and feet firm on the carpet. She regarded her father with cool eyes, unaware of the picture she presented. Or who she looked like. "I guess I'll go start on my homework."

Mr. Williams stared back at her, mouth slightly ajar. If he had responded with anger, she would have just walked away. Instead he looked lost, bewildered. She belatedly remembered her new crystalline appearance, hard and distant and cold. His expression knocked a hole in Sarah's aloofness—she slumped down and her arms fell to her sides.

"What ever happened to my little girl?" he breathed, the words slipping from his lips thoughtlessly.

"I had to grow up someday," Sarah whispered back, stricken. There was nothing else she could say. She turned around and walked out of the room quickly, not willing to continue the conversation. The Williams had never been a family that discussed feelings easily. But her father had made a valid point.

_I'm an adult now,_ she thought as she retreated back to her bedroom. And she was. Suddenly, strangely, surprisingly. Not because she had lost her virginity—sex, while no doubt important, certainly wasn't a cure for childishness. No, something else was causing the old feeling in the back of her head. Perhaps making that final step into the Aboveground had done it, choosing the honorable course when it would have been so easy to just give in.

_Well, whatever it was, I am _definitely_ grounded_.The thought was wearying, more insulting than infuriating. This was the reward for her bravery. _Ah, well_. It was probably for the best; Sarah would need some time to settle in before she was ready to talk to her friends. Now she had a proper excuse for ignoring them.

The rest of the day passed by with little to comment on. The only tense moments occurred while Sarah was having lunch—Karen came into the kitchen and saw her step-daughter for the first time since she had come home. The older woman stopped and stared after Sarah turned to wave, face going from mildly-astounded to thoughtful to stern and worried. The last expression was one that Sarah had come to know and fear; it usually heralded parental urges on Karen's part.

The room was otherwise empty. Karen looked around surreptitiously before approaching and settling in a chair across from Sarah. Karen leaned forward and made eye-contact. Sarah forced herself to stay still.

"I hear you had a little disagreement with your father this morning," her stepmother began in a low tone, looking understanding and and concerned and sympathetic.

"Mmph," commented Sarah. Her eyes edged toward the patio doors. No, escaping would only encourage her.

"You know that he and I trust you, Sarah, we're just worried. It's what parents are for." Again with the eye contact. Sarah fidgeted. She grabbed her glass of lemonade and took a swig so she wouldn't be forced to respond.

"I want you to know that you can trust _us_, Sarah. Maybe you'd be more comfortable talking with your mother, but I am _always _here for you if you need an open ear."

This was beginning to creep her out.

"I don't think you were drinking," continued Karen after Sarah made no move to reply. Her voice was slow and deliberate, infused with caring. "I know you know better than that. But I _was_ a teenager too, once upon a time." This with a forced laugh. Sarah's grin was sickly. "So I need to ask, Sarah—have you and Aaron, you know... has your relationship become... _physical_?"

_DEAR GOD._

Sarah spewed her mouthful of lemonade back into her cup, thankfully preventing her from shrieking her thoughts out loud. An expression of absolute horror crossed her face as she stared at Karen. _Was she... could she_..? Sadly, yes. Her stepmother was trying to ask her if _she had sex with Aaron._ Sarah very, very much wanted to melt into the floor.

_Why is there never anybody around to spirit me away when I actually need it?_

"No!" exclaimed Sarah vehemently in a shrill voice. "No! What... why are you asking me that?!"

"I'm not angry at you, Sarah, I just need to make sure you're safe. You do know to use the proper, er, protection?" Karen continued.

"_I didn't sleep with him_," Sarah said between gritted teeth. Karen looked tolerant and unconvinced.

"I'm not stupid, Sarah, and as much as you might like to ignore it, I do have experience in these things. There's a certain look that people get..." Karen trailed off when Sarah looked increasingly pained.

_A certain look..?_

Once again, Sarah remembered that she was kinda-sorta glowing. _Maybe that's what she means? I guess, if Dinah showed up looking all shiny, I might wonder..._ Okay, fine. Embarrassing, but better than the truth.And while she hadn't slept with Aaron, she had kind of... well... _really_ slept with the Goblin King. Not as though _that_ had anything to do with her present state. But it did leave her without any sort of high-ground, and it made the conversation a _lot_ more uncomfortable.

Sarah scrunched her hands up in her hair and summoned her courage.

"I swear that we've done nothing. But, I promise, I will be intelligent if I ever... do. Okay?" She looked at Karen beseechingly, hoping that it was the answer her stepmother was waiting for. The older woman nodded grudgingly and rose.

"Good to hear it." She hesitated before saying, "And thank you for listening. I'd... always hoped that we could get along someday." Karen smiled weakly before turning and walking out of the room.

Sarah was left staring down at her food, feeling vaguely ashamed. Karen was a good person.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Saturday night was spent in joyous communion with a pepperoni pizza and Sunday was spent wrestling with homework—and trying to relearn concepts she hadn't dealt with in weeks. Troublesome thoughts of the Underground were kept in abeyance. Eventually Monday morning arrived, heralded by the obnoxious buzz of Sarah's alarm clock. She got ready for school with a lump of dread sitting in her belly. Now was the hard part—she had fooled her family, but could she fool her friends?

Around 7:00, Sarah moseyed out to the front porch with her bookbag on her back. There was a familiar feeling in the air, one she recognized from years at school. It was May; the leaves were on the trees, the sun was up, and a warm breeze stirred the air. The hazy promise of a hot summer morning lay thick over everything, with its anticipation of coming freedom.

No one else was around. Sarah looked down and conjured a crystal in her hand, feeling immensely relieved when the shining orb appeared. It was empty, nothing more than a shell of magic; she slipped it in with her school books. Doing the magic made her feel more like herself. She didn't know why.

Dinah's car came sputtering around the corner a moment later, coming to an abrupt halt in front of the driveway. Sarah could clearly picture the girl slamming on her breaks as she reached the house.

_Here we go_, she thought wildly. _Buck up, girlie._

Dinah turned to give Sarah a significant look as she climbed into the car, which quickly morphed into a double take.

"Hurry up, kiddo, we got places to be."

"Do tell?" replied Sarah wryly; she grasped at side door convulsively as Dinah squealed away from the curb.

"You bet. We're skipping first block and going to Starbucks—we need to talk."

Uh-oh.

"Talk about what?" she asked, face guarded. Dinah kept her eyes on the road.

"Lots of stuff. 'specially since your Dad wouldn't let me talk to you when I called. You had us _worried_... but never mind. We'll talk after we get some caffeine."

A welcome reprieve. Sarah spent the next ten minutes getting her story straight; too soon, though, they had parked, ordered, and sat down in a secluded corner of the coffee-shop. At this time of the morning, there was little sit-in business; most people were taking stuff to go. Privacy was to be found in abundance.

"So," said Dinah seriously, fixing her fierce brown gaze on her best friend. Sarah raised a single eyebrow.

"You're looking good," Dinah said. Then she shook her head. "No, ignore that. Where'd you go on Friday night? We couldn't find you anywhere, we were kind of freakin' out. You can't just disappear on people like that!"

"I'm sorry," replied Sarah, twisting her fingers in her lap. Her voice was truly regretful. "I walked out of the crowd to get some fresh air, towards my tree. The oak, right? Anyway, next thing I know, the parking lot's full of police cars. I saw them rounding everyone up and, well, I decided I should probably get out of there. It was instinctive, I swear. I figured that you guys got caught up in the mess, so I just ran back home. I _really _didn't mean to scare you, if I did. I just didn't want to have to call Dad from the police station."

"Huh," said Dinah, not looking particularly mollified. "They weren't arresting everyone, you know. It was pretty clear who'd been drinking and who hadn't. Me and the guys got out pretty fast. You should have called us after getting home, at least."

"Look, I'm sorry, really," repeated Sarah. She was getting a little desperate. "I guess I wasn't thinking. I was exhausted that night, so I went to bed after getting back. And of course my Dad jumped to conclusions the next day, so I was grounded." Sarah shivered theatrically, trying to distract her friend. "And I had this really disturbing talk with Karen where she tried to ask me if I'd done it with Aaron. I think that's what they cared about more than drinking."

"Have you?" asked Dinah impishly. Sarah shot her a withering glare.

"Okay, fine. But Sarah, are you sure that's all you did that night?" The redheaded girl lost her smile and an odd tone entered her voice. The speculative look was back.

"Why all the questions?" Sarah replied, worrying again. Dinah was looking really strange.

"Did you maybe... see anything... weird?" Dinah flushed a little bit but didn't let her eyes waver. Sarah's brow furrowed and something occurred to her, but she didn't want to jump to conclusions. In case she was wrong.

"What do you mean by 'weird'?"

"Oh... just... Sarah, don't you tell talk to Ben or Aaron about this, they'd think I was crazy. But I thought you might... well. Okay. Did you see any lights in the woods? Or maybe some people that didn't quite fit, or... oh, forget it." The last part was muttered, Dinah's face going even brighter. "I _swear_ that I wasn't drinking."

_My, my,_ thought Sarah, not sure whether she was very relieved or very frightened.

"No," said Sarah slowly. Dinah ducked her head.

"Oh. I guess I was..."

"No!" the other girl exclaimed. "I meant—yes, I did see them too!"

Dinah jumped, head popping up and eyes staring feverishly. Her flush was abruptly replaced by pasty white.

"You did?" she whispered.

"Yes!"

Much to Sarah's horror, Dinah's chin started to tremble and her eyes began to tear up. Sarah reached across the table to grasp her friend's hands tightly.

"Don't do that! Dinah! What's wrong?"

"I really wanted to b-believe!" Dinah wailed, a tear trailing down her cheek. "I've read the books all my life and w-watched the movies and I always wished I would s-see something, oh my God I always hoped I could see _something_..." She dissolved into real tears and Sarah began to freak out. She shoved all her napkins toward the other girl, moving to sit directly next to her.

"You did this time, really," whispered Sarah into her ear, "I promise. It's okay."

"What did you see?" asked Dinah fiercely. "Tell me."

"Fairies," replied Sarah, still speaking low. "I saw fairies flying in little balls of light, and other things—I saw a woman with scarlet hair and scaly arms, I saw a man who was almost a tree, the fae of the Aboveground. I'd never seen them before, I didn't know they existed here, but I _saw_ them. I'm so happy that you saw them, too."

And it was true. An immense weight had lifted from her chest, though her necklace still hung heavy around her throat.

"You looked like you had seen them," said Dinah, a little more composed. "You look different. Fey, elf-touched. You must have walked among them in the woods. But Sarah, how did you know you weren't crazy? I was half-convinced somebody had slipped some acid into my Coke."

Good question. Sarah paused, seeing a fork in the road in front of her. To tell or not to tell? If she did tell, how much?

This was _Dinah_.

It felt so good to integrate these two halves of herself.

Sarah breathed in deeply.

"My visit with my mom and Jeremy was a bit strange," she began. Then she went into depth about the visit, saying things she had skipped over when she had described her trip before. She told Dinah about Grandmother Dara and the cousins and Jeremy's brother and sister—and Jeremy himself. About where they came from, and how shocked Sarah had been, and about the magic they had done.

Never did she mention Jareth. That would have taken to long to explain, even if she had felt inclined to do so. No, those thoughts were still too private and too confusing to go over. She did mention Lady Dara's letter a few weeks before, and the sugar-coated order to visit the Family.

Dinah sat perfectly quiet for twenty minutes as Sarah spoke, never interrupting. When the dark-haired girl finally fell silent, Dinah continued to sit there with a dazed look on her tear-stained face.

"So I'm the crazy one, if anyone is," added Sarah lamely. "... you do believe me, don't you?"

Quiet.

"Dinah?" she asked worriedly. Surely she'd been right to speak...?

"You have to take me with you!" Dinah burst out at last, eyes wide. "Sarah, you have to."

"Take you to the Underground?" said Sarah, aghast. Dinah nodded violently.

"_Yes_! There is no way you can hog that to yourself! A chance to see... there's no way you're leaving me behind!"

"I don't even want to go, myself!" exclaimed Sarah. "No way! It's not safe!"

"According to who? Why ever not?"

Sarah bit her lower lip._ Nice one, girl._

"They're not giving me a choice about going, for one thing. If I don't show up on my own, they'll send someone after me. Doesn't that sound a little nefarious?" Here she was, using the same arguments on Dinah that Jareth had used on her. The ones that she had rejected on her own.

"Oh, please. She's just a grandmother. You should see my Nonna. She's always ordering me to come see her and marry a nice Italian boy, and I'm only eighteen. Anyways, if there is something devilish afoot, wouldn't it be better to have some back-up around?"

"Hmph. I'll think about it. But not a word to the guys. They won't understand."

"You mean, they'll send us to the loony bin? You got that right."

"Deal, then?"

"Deal. Now let's get out of here. I have a physics test next period."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The rest of the day was bizarrely normal after the morning's surreal conversation. Sarah could almost believe that she had never left the Aboveground, that it had all been a bad dream—except that the dream hadn't been entirely bad, and the crystal was still rolling around in her backpack.

Ben had said 'hey', Aaron had hugged her as usual and asked if she had done something to her hair. Sarah forced a smile and didn't answer. She realized, for the first time, that she had cheated on Aaron rather egregiously.

That was something to keep in mind. It didn't help when Ellie had teased her about her appearance in 7th period, attributing her shine to the joy of falling in love. Sarah growled at her and shifted uncomfortably. She definitely had some issues to work through, where Aaron was concerned. She tried not to think too much about it.

And so, with a few jumps and starts, her life began to fall into a pattern again. _Adaptability_, she said to herself_, is the key to survival_. The mantra was an attempt to make herself feel better about not thinking. Not thinking about her situation, that is. That was the reason she had come back, wasn't it? To get some breathing room, to figure out what she wanted? To figure out what she was going to do next?

By eating cafeteria food and babysitting Toby, Sarah began to feel mostly human again. But there was something missing, the same discomfort that had niggled at her on her birthday so long ago.

A week after returning, Sarah locked the bedroom door and started levitating books around her room. She floated discarded clothes off the floor and into the closet, and she deposited trash into the bin next to her vanity. Then she summoned a crystal and turned it into a glass paperweight.

It looked like a little owl. She frowned at it and let it melt back into formless power.

The magic felt wonderful. Sarah knew then that she had several decisions to make. They couldn't be avoided. In three weeks, either Angharad, Jareth, or both would come to take her away. When this happened, she needed to know what to do. _Ironic_, she thought to herself,_ that if I had only stayed in the Labyrinth, the Daras would have come to my house and found me absent. The date in the letter was only a couple of days after I left the Labyrinth. But no, I had to come back, and now the problem's still here_.

None of the magic she knew would prevent them from transporting her to their home in the Underground. Maybe Jareth would get to her first and stop them, but did she really want him to do that? She'd just be under his control again.

Sarah had no idea how she felt about the Goblin King. She knew that sleeping with him had been a horrible idea—thoroughly enjoyable (_okay, mind-blowing)_ at the moment, but extremely messy in the long run. Couldn't be helped now, though. Was she attracted to him? Oh yes. Did she like him? Sometimes. Did she love him? Whoa, _so_ not ready for that question. Jareth reminded her of the old rhyme about the little girl with the curl in the middle of her forehead.

_...when he is good, he is very VERY good, but when he is bad, he is _horrid

After two weeks in the Aboveground, the girl decided to try an experiment. She caught Aaron at his car after school, making sure no one else was around.

"Kiss me," she said firmly, looking up at him. She hadn't had more than a peck on the lips for the past fortnight, so this was important in proving her hypothesis. Aaron grinned.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I want you to kiss me. Like you mean it."

"Sure," he replied, willing but skeptical. "What's up?"

"It's an experiment. Just do it."

"Hey, alright, no problem. Here I go."

He bent his head down to hers, curly hair falling over her cheek. The kiss was gentle, sweet, and long. Aaron smiled at her again when he stood up.

"Does that fit the bill?"

"Perfectly, thank you very much. I gotta go now, though. See you later?"

"Yep. Bye, then. Glad I could help."

After she had left and walked some distance, the smile faded from her face.

_Damn,_ she cursed mentally. _Damn._

It had been nice. Just... nice. The experiment had worked; the conclusion was clear. Her sneaking suspicions were proven to be true.

_The Goblin King has ruined me for nice high-school boys. Or just for Aaron. Okay, no fooling myself. He was my dream when I was fifteen, and the only thing that's changed is that the dream's a hell of a lot dirtier now._ Maybe she didn't know how she felt about him, but all that confused mess amounted to a lot more emotion that she had ever felt for anyone else.

She was going to have to break up with Aaron. It was the only honorable route.

_Damn_.

As if she didn't have enough to worry about as it was.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: Chapter Fifteen completed. That was exhausting. Sorry if nothing really happened in this installment; Sarah needed a little bit of breathing room between adventures. I must admit, I miss Jareth already. Don't worry, he'll be back eventually—and the Dara family is going to be making its long-awaited reappearance in the next few chapters. Getting near the end of this thing, folks!

My reviewers are lovely people as always, especially when they don't yell at me for putting chapters out late. **Lhiata, Amora-Ryuko, Just a Starving Writer, GoldenUsagi, Plague-darkholme, Anisky, Eleanora Rose, Ms. Briefs, Moonjava, Midnight Lady, Kaio, SP777, Mav1, Solea, Velf, Morganna Jade, Alissa7**: much obliged, once again. Your feedback does help me a lot; hopefully I answered some of the questions people had, in this chapter.


	16. Easy Come, Easy Go

Chapter Sixteen: Easy Come, Easy Go

Sarah's biggest problem, she decided, was that she had too many secrets. She had shared some things with Dinah, which had helped ease the pressure, but there were still too many secrets left untold—too many secrets that couldn't be told.

On the surface of things was the very existence the Underground. This secret must be hidden from her family and all friends but Dinah.

Secondly was the fact that she had gone to the Labyrinth and beaten it; this she must hide from everyone but Jeremy and Jareth, who already knew.

The third level of secrets concerned Jareth; that she had slept with him, that he had taught her magic, that she had become a being like him. These secrets she had to hide from everyone but Jareth.

Unfortunately, she seemed to have ditched her only confidant at the first opportunity.

_Drat._

Advice would have been glorious, but she knew that any comments Jareth had to make would be biased. So she was left to muddle through her predicament on her own. All of her knowledge had begun to swirl continually through her head: the Daras were coming, Jareth was coming, she wasn't human, she could do magic.

The Daras could not be allowed to learn this information—that was self-evident. If she was a valuable brood-mare as a human, wouldn't she become astronomically more valuable if she were Jareth-kind, possibly immortal, and capable of great magic? She had learned a lot of things under Jareth's tutelage, but nothing to protect her from being married off and summarily raped.

Of course, this was assuming that Jareth had been telling the strict truth, or that he hadn't simply been lying. Angharad and her husband had seemed like perfectly nice people, even if their children had been snobs and Owain Dara had made unwanted advances. And, once again, Jareth's comments were probably biased, calculated to keep her in the Labyrinth.

These thoughts ran in a constant loop, argument and counter-argument, solutions and problems, pros and cons.

Her mind was full to brimming. In the eyes of those around her, Sarah became vaguer and more abstracted as the days wore on.

_I need to get my affairs in order_, she thought morbidly while considering her options. If nothing else was fixed and sure, she did know that she'd be leaving again soon. She needed to break up with Aaron, say bye to Toby... but what to say to Dad and Karen? A direct confrontation was out of the question. She could get them to believe her, probably, if she demonstrated her magic, but they wouldn't want her to leave and they'd cause a scene and... it would be altogether unpleasant. Sarah didn't want to get them involved.

She'd write a letter, address it to them, and put it on a bookshelf. They generally weren't allowed in her room without direct permission, so they'd only find the letter if she went missing. Maybe she could leave a crystal with it, to prove she was telling the truth.

_Could I put some sort of activate-on-contact spell on it..?_ Research would be in order—she'd have to consult her red book, the magic-manual that Jareth had given to her.

With seven days left of freedom, Sarah gathered her courage and confronted Aaron. They went out for pizza at Dinah's family's pizzeria that night. It was buzzing with teenage life; hard to believe it had been so quiet at Sarah's birthday party a few months ago. Hard to believe that she had ever been that serene and carefree.

Sarah was anxious all evening, staring into the distance, fidgeting with her napkin, and only half-paying attention to what Aaron was saying. He was such a _nice_ person, really, and he'd been an affectionate and attentive boyfriend. Breaking up with him seemed exceptionally cruel, but maybe that was just it. He was _too_ nice. _Sort of boring. He never yells, he's never sarcastic, he never makes me mad, never argues with me..._ So when she felt the need to yell, be sarcastic, be angry, or argue with someone, he'd just be _nice_ and make her feel like a bitch.

_You are cruel, Sarah._

Sarah wondered if it was a little twisted, to want someone to be cruel back at you.

"Aaron," she said abruptly during a pause in conversation. "Do you think this is working anymore?"

The youth sitting across from her set down his slice of pizza, looking puzzled.

"What?"

"This. _This. _I'm just... not sure..." Sarah trailed off. She could see wheels turning in Aaron's head.

"You mean, us?"

"... yes?" said Sarah meekly. She'd never broken up with anyone before. Hell, she'd never _dated_ anyone else before.

"I..." He looked poleaxed, rubbing the back of his neck with confusion written across his face. "I've noticed you've seemed kind of distant lately, Sarah, but I didn't know you..." It was his turn to trail off. He looked at her beseechingly with big brown eyes.

"It's not you," she replied quickly, mentally kicking herself for the clichéd line. "I like you a lot, Aaron, you're one of the kindest people I've ever met. But I'm not sure... I don't think I really I like you _that_ way..."

"Let me guess; this is the 'let's just be friends' speech," he broke in, eyes downcast and voice taking a bitter tone. There was a red flush on his cheeks. Sarah watched him wretchedly, wringing her hands in her lap.

"_Please_ don't be angry," she pleaded.

"Angry? Maybe later. Right now and stuck in a sort of 'sad and bewildered' mode," he said sourly. "Don't worry, I'm sure anger will surface eventually. I mean, my girlfriend is breaking up with me totally out of the blue. Anger seems inevitable."

"Is the sarcasm really necessary?" snapped Sarah. "This isn't easy for me either."

"Ha. I'm sure. Did you meet someone else? Is that what this is about?"

"No!" she exclaimed, lying blatantly but remorsefully. "This is about me not loving you! It's about you deserving something better! It's about not selling ourselves short!"

This silenced Aaron for a moment.

"Love?" he said skeptically. "We're just seniors in high school. Are you expecting to find true love at age eighteen? Is that really important now?"

"Dinah and Ben love each other," Sarah pointed out. It was true. They'd been dating for years.

"They're not exactly the norm."

"No."

"So?"

Sarah considered this. It was an interesting question, but moot in these circumstances—her real reasons for breaking things off with Aaron weren't quite the ones that she had given to him. Love, or lack of it, had little to do with the situation. _Or at least I'm pretty sure that it doesn't_, she thought. _It's not like I love Jareth. Or even want to._

Right?

_Well, that was an unsettling idea. I really need to cut back on this self-examination._

"Look, Aaron, I'm sorry, but this is the way I feel. Nothing's going to change that. I know you don't agree, but, well, you're Ben's best friend and Dinah is mine. Could we at least try to be... cordial to one another?"

"We'll see," said Aaron stonily. _Not likely_, his tone said, but Sarah was optimistic. Aaron wasn't capable of holding a grudge for very long.

They left the restaurant soon after. The ride home was very long and very quiet.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Unsurprisingly, Dinah practically tackled Sarah the next day.

"What did you _do_?" Dinah half-screeched, staring at Sarah incredulously. Sarah fidgeted with her clothes and pursed her lips.

"I assume you've heard?"

"Damn right I've heard! What's going on? Are you insane?"

"I broke up with him. People break up with their boyfriends all the time." Sarah made a lame attempt at humor. "Veronica Hinton does it at least once a week, if the school rumor mill is to be believed."

"You are _so_ not Veronica Hinton. Why on earth did you do it? You and Aaron were so cute together."

"Cute?" asked Sarah disdainfully. She had no desire to be cute. "I felt that the relationship was missing something."

"Missing what? Aaron's hot! He's good-looking, he plays guitar, he's not a jerk... do you know how rare that is?"

"Maybe I like jerks," Sarah mumbled under her breath. _But that's being unfair. Jareth's a bastard, not a jerk. There's a subtle difference. _

"What?"

"Just drop it, Dinah," Sarah said irritably. "I have enough things to worry about already."

"Is this about—," the redhead lowered her voice after looking from side-to-side, "—is this about you-know-what?"

Sarah wasn't quite certain what "you-know-what" was, but she had a good idea.

"Partly," Sarah said truthfully. "Mostly not, but I still don't want to leave him hanging if I... if I don't come back."

Dinah raised her eyebrows.

"That's a bit dramatic, isn't it?"

Oh, like _she_ was one to talk about being dramatic. Sarah had the distinct impression that Dinah did not understand the magnitude of the Underground situation.

"No, it's not," she replied. "These people, Jeremy's family, don't think like we do. They're not even human, much less modern or American. I'm going because I have no choice. I really don't want you to come with me, Dinah."

"I'm not going to abandon you," said Dinah stubbornly. Her brow had lowered and her lower lip stuck out, as fearsome an expression as she was capable of conjuring. A determined spark snapped in her dark eyes. No doubt that she was capable of impressive fireworks when enraged, but fury alone wouldn't protect them from anyone.

_Six days,_ Sarah thought. _Tick-tock, tick-tock._

Six days.

Her time was running out. Four weeks she had spent in the Labyrinth, four weeks that Daedalus had returned to her when he sent her back in time. Those four weeks were almost gone again.

The sixth day passed quickly, followed by the fifth day.

Sarah practiced magic feverishly in her room, conjuration and levitation and the summoning of fire. She studied the red book, looking for something useful, but it was a book of theory and not method.

_Tick-tock._

The fourth day passed, and then the third.

Jareth and the Daras would both be coming after her—it all depended on who got there first. Who did she _want_ to get there first?

The letter to Karen and her Dad, sealed in an envelope and addressed, had been placed on the surface of her vanity. Next to it was a crystal, full of swirling magic.

Sarah opened her closet doors and pushed aside the skirts and dresses and blouses that hung there, revealing the deep blue gown she had brought back from the Labyrinth. It shone softly in the artificial light, making the rest of her clothing look drab and cheap in comparison. The girl rubbed the fabric between two fingers, staring.

Did she want to go back? Did she want to stay here? The time for thinking was almost over.

Two days to go, and then one day.

_Tick-tock_.

Finally, the Day arrived. Sarah dreamed of bells chiming thirteen o'clock and awoke to the normal alarm clock buzz.

She prepared for school mechanically, brushing her hair and teeth without much thought. Breakfast lay mostly untouched on her plate. Every now and then she found that her hand had grasped the pendent of her necklace through the cotton of her t-shirt, quite of its own accord. Sarah was on auto-pilot.

She hugged Toby closely and kissed him goodbye. Toby, preternaturally sensitive, accepted the affection without his usual fuss.

"You okay?" asked Dinah on the ride to school. Sarah grunted, staring out the window. "What's the matter?"

When Sarah didn't answer, Dinah seemed to figure it out on her own.

"Is today... the day?"

Sarah nodded wordlessly. Dinah frowned at the steering wheel in front of her.

"You really are worried about this, aren't you?"

Sarah turned slowly, pale face becoming paler. Then she spoke.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" asked the girl, voice dripping with sarcasm. She swept a lock of dark hair out of her face and glared at Dinah with narrowed gray-green eyes. "This is not a _game_, Dinah. Today I am leaving. One way or another, if I like it or not. Maybe if they'd given me a choice, it wouldn't be so bad—my life wasn't particularly enviable before any of this—but nobody seems to care what _I_ want. No one consulted me first, not my loving grandmother or... or anyone else. So forgive me if I'm being bitchy, but I _think _that I've earned that right."

The silence was suffocating in the small hot car. For once, Dinah seemed shocked into speechlessness.

"... that's not very fair, to yell at me," she murmured softly. "I didn't do anything to you."

"Well, life isn't fair, is it?" replied Sarah with a certain relish. Dinah looked askance at her and Sarah knew there was a manic gleam in her eyes.

"If you're trying to drive me away, it's not gonna work," continued the redhead quietly. "Don't you dare leave school without me this afternoon. Maybe I don't quite understand everything—I know you aren't telling me everything—but I'm going to stick with you. That's what friends are for."

"You can't save me," Sarah told her wearily.

"But I can support you. And I will."

It was a kind thought, Sarah decided, but not at all comforting.

So the day passed.

_When will they come,_ she wondered as she sat through her classes. _Will they corner me in the bathroom? March into my class? Wait until I walk out the door at the end of the day? Kidnap me from my bed at night? Sidle up to me in the hall?_

That was the worst part, the merciless tension. At school, at least, she had something to occupy her time. But what to do after school? Just putter around waiting for the proverbial ax to fall?

Sarah didn't bother to listen to any of her teachers that day. She kept herself amused by levitating tiny pieces of paper across the floor; whenever one of her classmates tried to slide a note to a friend, Sarah gently nudged it in the opposite direction. It was entertaining in a mildly sadistic way. Jareth had been a bad influence on her.

_Tick-tock _said the clock that resounded in her head. She felt time slipping through her fingers, escaping from her grasp. The hours flew past her and no one came. The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day and the school week. Still no one came.

Dinah met her in the parking lot.

"What do you want to do?" she asked seriously. Sarah thought about it.

"I want a coke from McDonald's," she said. "And I want to go to the park."

"You're the boss," Dinah replied. They went through the drive-through before continuing onward; twenty minutes later, the two girls were sitting on Sarah's bench, under Sarah's tree, watching the carefree people playing on the grass.

It was a fragile moment of peace. Sarah almost felt calm. Almost.

Then she saw two figures walking up the slight hill, towards them. Aaron and Ben.

"What are they doing here?" Sarah asked slowly, watching them approach.

"Guess they were looking for us," said Dinah, a little too innocently.

"What are you up to?" asked Sarah suspiciously, eyes moving from the boys to the girl and back again.

"They were just worried about you!" Dinah exclaimed, exasperation clear in expression and tone. "The way you've been acting this past week, everything thinks you've gone round the bend. Especially after today. If you're not careful, the guidance counselor's going to call you up to her office and ask if your parents have been beating you."

"I guess she missed her chance," muttered Sarah, "Since I'm not going to be around anymore."

The boys reached the line of the oak tree's shade, saving Dinah the bother of replying.

"Hey," said Ben amiably, ambling up in his most non-threatening way. Aaron followed behind, sullen and perhaps a little wary of his welcome.

"What's up?" Sarah asked them. Trying not to sound belligerent.

"What d'you mean?" replied Ben with raised eyebrows. He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Dinah said that you had something to tell us."

"I had something to tell..?" Sarah repeated blankly. She turned her head to glare at Dinah. "What have you been saying to them?"

The redheaded girl wilted a bit at her friend's coldly furious tone.

"Look... Sarah... you said that I couldn't help, so I thought that if there were a few more people around, you'd be—safe..?"

"The hell you did. I thought we'd agreed to keep this between us! Listen to me—_you are interfering in matters you don't understand._ This is my problem, and I will deal with it the way I like."

"You aren't dealing with it at all! You're just sitting around, waiting for it to happen--"

"Whoa!" cried Ben, waving his hands in front of him, "Time out, time out. Explain. Now."

"There's nothing to explain," Sarah snapped.

"We're not buying that one," replied Aaron, leveling a reproachful gaze at her. "Cough it up."

"No. You two are better off out of it."

"Dinah?" prompted Ben remorselessly.

"Her stepfather's mother wants Sarah to come and visit her, but Sarah doesn't want to go and she's convinced that Mrs. Dara is going to take her by force and not let her go again."

Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but shut it angrily after Dinah blurted it all out. Ben and Aaron stood still, blinking, brains obviously trying to absorb this absurdly-phrased information.

Ben summed up his thoughts very emphatically.

"What the fuck?"

"I don't want to talk about it," said Sarah darkly.

"Are you serious?" queried Aaron.

"Deadly," responded Dinah solemnly. Sarah buried her face in her hands.

_As if this weren't bad enough_, she thought fiercely. _Damn, damn, damn._

"There's someone walking toward us," said Ben calmly. Sarah raised her head, very slowly.

Yes, there was someone walking up the hill. Slim, average-height, dressed in black jeans and a close-fitting t-shirt—_not Jareth_, Sarah noticed with a twisting sensation in her stomach. _A good thing or a bad thing? _The figure did look familiar; it was a handsome young man with brilliant red hair a few shades redder than Dinah's.

A name popped into Sarah's brain—Gabriel. Gabriel Arian, dressed more casually than she had last seen him. Gabriel, the polite cousin who she had met briefly. Not, praise be to God, the one who had propositioned her in the hallway.

Sarah realized that she had forgotten to breath. She gasped in some air as Gabriel approached.

"Greetings, cousin," he said respectfully, stopping a good six or seven feet in front of them. His expression was friendly.

"Hello," said Sarah weakly. Out of the corners of her eyes, she saw Aaron and Ben move to either side of her like a pair of bodyguards. Dinah scooted closer to her on the bench. "Are you the one they sent, then?"

"Indeed." He glanced pointedly at Sarah's bristling friends. "Grandmother was disappointed that you didn't use the talisman to come to us earlier. She sent me to bring you myself; I apologize if I have come at an inopportune moment."

"What if I said that I'd rather not come with you?" asked Sarah, just for the heck of it. Gabriel smiled apologetically and shrugged.

"You can say it, if you wish, but I'm under orders. Even if I did let you go, Grandmother would send someone else to fetch you. Someone less sympathetic, might I add."

"I see," she murmured.

"What's the deal here, man?" asked Aaron, sounding more forceful than Sarah had ever heard him. Gabriel looked at him questioningly.

"I'm sorry?"

"If the lady doesn't wish to go with you, she's not going to go," said Ben. His voice was deep and quiet but _very_ firm; no doubt it would have sent a human opponent running off, when combined with Ben's height and muscular mass. But Gabriel appeared unfazed.

"Are you threatening me?" he asked, amused.

"I would say so," said Aaron, chin tilting up. Gabriel appealed to Sarah.

"Have you explained the situation to your friends?" His tone was still genial. Sarah shook her head.

"Not in full. They know that I'd prefer to stay here, in the Aboveground. Or at home, rather."

"She told me," put in Dinah quickly. Gabriel acknowledged her with a polite nod.

"I respect your concern for Sarah," he said, addressing the boys, "But this is beyond your control. I am ordered to bring Sarah to our grandmother, and you cannot stop me."

Ben took a threatening step toward the redhaired youth, arm pulled back in preparation for a punch. Gabriel held up a hand and muttered something under his breath; Ben halted mid-step, frozen in position. The anger on his face melted away, replaced by confusion and rising panic.

"I can't move!" He was straining, Sarah could tell, but nothing was happening. She leaped off of the bench, followed quickly by Dinah.

"Stop!" she exclaimed. "It's okay, Ben—Gabriel, please let him go, I promise he won't interfere, please don't hurt them." She wrung her hands, desperation tinging her voice. "I don't want them to get hurt because of me."

"As you wish."

Ben fell to the ground, knocked off balance as his invisible bonds were released. Aaron and Dinah knelt down to help him, but Sarah remained to stare at the Shining One across from her. His inhumanity, his glow, like her own, was obscured by the sunlight and his Aboveground garb. But his magic was undeniable.

"What was that?" asked Aaron tremulously, wide-eyed and looking younger than his eighteen years. Sarah sighed softly, very softly, in resignation.

"That was magic," said Gabriel. "You'd do well to remember it, human."

"His name is Aaron." It hurt to hear the word put so harshly, to hear her friend so sharply divided from herself. Even if Gabriel thought that she, too, was a human. "And that's Ben, and Dinah."

"Aaron, then. And Ben. Bravery is admirable, but it will do you little good against the denizens of the Underground."

Faced with the boys' bewildered faces, Sarah explained in a few trembling sentences.

"Bullshit," Ben replied sharply.

"Excuse me?" retorted Sarah. "After the demonstration you just had? You better believe it."

"It's true," said Dinah, gripping his shoulder. "I swear, Ben. I saw fairies in the woods, that night during the concert. If I saw that, what makes this Underground so unlikely?"

"Convince him later," Gabriel said. "This has stretched on long enough. Sarah, if you will take my hand?"

"No!" cried Dinah. "Let us come too! Don't make her go alone!"

"Stay, Dinah, please," responded Sarah urgently. "It won't make any difference. Humans don't belong in the Underground—it never comes to any good."

"What about you?" Dinah's eyes were tearing up. "I will not abandon you."

"It's too late for me," she said, feeling a catch in her own throat. _Years too late, even without the Daras._ "I'm sorry."

"She's right," added Gabriel, his voice becoming gentle. "I really do apologize. Quick, please, say your goodbyes."

Sarah threw her arms around Dinah, squeezing her tightly. Then she moved to Aaron, then to Ben, hugging them quickly and fiercely before letting them go.

"I love all of you," she whispered to their stricken faces.

_Will I ever see them again? s_he thought, dazed. _If I do, though, will they ever look at me the same?_

"Come," said Gabriel. Sarah grasped his outstretched hand, knowing that he would just grab her if she did not comply. She closed her eyes.

"Here we go," he said. She felt a cool tingle over her body, but she didn't see the world fade around her. It was just as well.

_Goodbye, Aboveground_, she thought. _Maybe I'll return to you someday. Maybe this is being blown way out of proportion; maybe I'll have a nice three-day holiday in Idunn before going home in time for graduation. Maybe Angharad is a normal grandmother, and has no Machiavellian plot to marry me off for political alliances. Maybe this is all a bad dream. _

_Maybe the sky is green, pigs can fly, and Hell has frozen over. Maybe._

And then there was Jareth, who by now had certainly discovered her absence and received her note. Who was probably very angry, and who indubitably remembered that the Daras were expecting her to attend the opening ball of the Season in the kingdom of Idunn.

Life was complicated. The trend showed no sign of stopping.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: The plot thickens. As you see, Dinah does not go to the Underground. I did consider it for awhile, along with sending Ben and Aaron too, but in the end I decided that would be too many characters to juggle around. Leaving the three of them seemed to fit the story better; Sarah is becoming more and more distanced from her old life. As you see.

So, reviewers: **Cariah Delonne, Velf, Moonjava, Anisky, Just a Starving Writer, Amora-Ryuko, Lhiata, Megan, Merryday, Midnight Lady, Lady Ione Athene, Solea, Bex Drake, Draegon-fire, GoldenUsagi, Sarin of the Night, Kaio, Ms. Briefs, Alissa7, Mag, Zephyrel, Innogen, Peppsy, **and **Mav1. **Thank you all A LOT, and a special thanks to Peppsy, who wrote my 200th review—holy crap! I thought I'd be lucky to get 50 reviews. 200 is unbelievable. I'm so happy that all of you have enjoyed the story enough to stick with it through all of these weeks.

Since next Saturday's a holiday, it's doubtful that I'll have the next part by then—Happy Holidays to everyone, by the way. I'll try to toss some Jareth into the next few chapters as your Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Festivus presents.


	17. She Was A Beauty In A Cage

Chapter Seventeen: She Was A Beauty in a Cage

When the tingle ended and Gabriel let go of her clammy hand, Sarah knew that they had arrived. She opened her eyes slowly, revealing a small, plain stone room. There was a doorway, but no furniture, no windows, no pictures, nothing. An intricate crest was carved in the center of the floor.

"Where are we?" asked Sarah in a flat voice.

"This is our manor's Appearing chamber. I suppose you wouldn't know about those. When we do the spell that allows us to travel like we just did, we need a... well, it doesn't really matter. But we need to get out of the room in case anyone else arrives; nasty things can happen when people try to appear in an already-occupied space."

Sarah grimaced as she followed Gabriel out of the little room. _Would have been nice to hear how he did that,_ she thought grimly. _Maybe I can—oh, holy crap._

Jareth's castle had been quiet and dusty, ancient and mysterious and vaguely sentient—like the rest of the Labyrinth. The Dara manor house was completely different. The floor of the main entrance—and it must have been the main entrance—was tiled in diamonds of black-and-white marble. A large staircase of rich dark wood curled up the side of the room, finished off with elaborate wrought-iron railing. The walls were painted a dull green when they weren't covered with trompe-l'oeil paintings of columns and molding and battle scenes. The ceiling, two tall stories up, was flat and painted as well. A hallway continued under the staircase; doorways, open and closed, could be seen everywhere. Here and there were side-tables and chairs, potted plants and mirrors.

The castle beyond the Goblin city was mythic, archaic, wondrous. This place appeared to be an opulent but mundane English country estate. The sense of life was palpable.

"Nice," commented Sarah simply, feeling cowed. Gabriel turned his head slightly toward her and smiled wryly.

"You're not exactly faint-of-heart, are you?" he asked sardonically. Sarah had to smile at that.

"No, I guess I'm not. But give me time; I'm sure that the shock will wear off soon enough, and then I'll be a gibbering mess."

"We'll go see Grandmother now, so you can get it over with before you fall apart. She should be up in her sitting room."

They climbed the tall stairway; Sarah studied her surroundings as they walked.

"Does all of the family live here?"

"Not all. Grandmother and Grandfather do, as well as Uncle Tristam, Aunt Gwyneth, cousins Jessamyn, Owain, and Callista. My family stays here during the Season, but Father has his own estate in the country. Jeremiel and your mother, of course, are in the Aboveground."

"Will Jeremy be visiting?" asked Sarah, hopeful but nervous. "Since I'm here?"

"I do not know." Gabriel ushered her down an upstairs hallway. "Perhaps he will. Grandmother asks him to come every year, but he has no great fondness for Idunn."

"Ah." _He _better_ come, if he finds out I'm stuck here. He got me into this._ "Er—Gabriel? You know, I think that my father and step-mother will be very worried when they find out I'm gone. I'm not sure that staying here is a very good idea..."

It couldn't hurt to mention it.

Gabriel's pitying look did nothing for Sarah's nerves.

"They've been taking care of for the time being. Someone was dispatched to spell their memories—they think you're visiting your mother."

"What?" exclaimed Sarah. "You can't just _do_ that to people! I—"

"Look," he cut in, "None of this is my fault. Don't argue with me." They stopped in front of a closed door; Gabriel knocked on it gently.

"Yes, come in," called a voice from inside, sweet and fluting. Angharad. The corners of Sarah's mouth turned down sharply as her companion pushed the door open.

"It's me," Gabriel said. "I brought the girl."

"Wonderful! Come, come—Gabriel, _do _change out of those awful clothes soon, won't you—ah, my dear Sarah!"

The girl emerged into the room and shuffled out from behind Gabriel. The space was light and airy, walls covered with a pale yellow, textured wallpaper. The lady in question was perched on the edge of a dainty brocade arm chair, a pile of documents set on the delicate oak table next to her.

"Come let me look at you, child—"

"Lady Dara," started Sarah icily, standing up ramrod-straight and channeling Karen at her worst. "I really must protest this abduction of myself. I am open to the idea of visiting at another date, but I am presently unable to spare the time; moreover, I do _not_ like being swept away so cavalierly; moreover, I do _not_ want you toying with my parents' minds. It is extremely discourteous, their humanity withstanding. As the stepchild of your son, I would have expected more respectful treatment from—"

Sarah trailed off when she realized that Angharad was staring at her with a peculiar expression on her face. She could feel herself morph back into her normal self, no longer in diatribe-mode, almost as if she were shrinking after growing huge in anger. Sarah folded her arms together over her chest. The edges of her pendant prodded at her reassuringly from underneath her shirt.

"What is it?" the girl asked, half-irritable and half-nervous.

The woman was mute for several long moments before speaking.

"Ah... ah, Sarah," Lady Dara said, almost stammering, "I do apologize if you feel ill-used. All of this is in your best interests, as I'm sure you'll realize soon. I will—I will speak with you more later this evening, but I just remembered that I, ah, have an urgent errand to run. Gabriel, please take your cousin to her quarters; or better yet, is your sister home?"

"She is not, madam," replied Gabriel woodenly. "Callista is present, though."

"Callista, that is fine. Please, take Sarah to her room and have Callista go to see her. I'm sure they'll get along admirably."

Angharad seemed more composed now, but she was still watching Sarah closely. The girl shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. _Maybe I have something stuck in my teeth,_ she thought desperately. _Maybe there's a leaf in my hair. Please, let her not notice what I think she's noticing._

She was screwed. That seemed to sum up the situation pretty well.

Her scarlet-haired cousin pushed her out of the room quickly, shutting the door quietly behind them. He began to propel her down the hallway with a hand on her back, walking at a brisk pace.

"Hey, hey!" Sarah protested, squirming out of his grasp, "Enough with the pushing. I can walk on my own."

"Walk fast," he muttered to himself. "I should've known... d'you know where Grandmother Dearest is going now?"

"No," Sarah retorted, almost jogging to keep up with him. "Enlighten me, please."

"Well, first she'll go talk to Grandfather. But after that... I'll wager you any sum of gold that she'll go straight to Uncle Jeremiel and ask him just how long he's been acquainted with your mother."

"Excuse me?" Sarah didn't quite get his drift.

"In other words—she's going to go ask him if you're his child, if you're a changeling, or if your mother is just a whore."

Sarah stopped dead in her tracks. A grip on Gabriel's arm stopped him as well.

"If anyone's earned the right to insult my mother, it's me. But not you. What the fuck are you implying?"

"I should have noticed before, but I didn't. Unfortunately, your show in the sitting room made it impossible to miss. You're too pretty to be a human—and you happen to _glow_ when you're angry. So there are three options: you are Jeremiel's true child, you are a changeling, or you are the daughter of an unknown Shining One that your mother bedded long ago. The first would please our grandmother greatly. The second is unlikely; the custom is old and long out-of-use. The third option casts an unsavory light on your mother."

"You think I'm one of _you_?" Sarah asked, tightly but relatively calmly. "Oh, god," she muttered wearily. "Just kill me now."

"No histrionics, please," Gabriel told her testily. "It's not a fate worse than death."

_Is it better than the truth, though? Maybe for now, at least._

"Easy for you to say."

Gabriel ignored that comment.

"You don't seem very shocked by all of this," Sarah asked in the silence. Gabriel shot her a wry look.

"I make an effort not to be shocked by anything. It saves energy."

They arrived in front of another door, which Gabriel rapped on quickly before opening. There was another sitting room beyond this door, but it was dim and done in shades of blue and cream. A few moment passed before Sarah spotted the girl on the couch—in her muted navy gown, she seemed to fade back into her surroundings. She was holding a book and looking mildly apprehensive.

"Callista, this is Sarah," the young man said peremptorily. "I don't believe you two met when Jeremiel was married."

Callista shook her head, unspeaking.

"Well." Gabriel seemed impatient. "I have things to go do. Sarah, your room is next to Callista's—she can show you. And stop gaping, Callista. Yes, Sarah was supposed to be human. Yes, her parentage is being looked into. No, she will not bite. Maybe you two can protect each other from Jessamyn and my delightful sister. Goodbye now."

And he left, leaving the two girls staring at each other.

Callista looked to be sixteen or seventeen, younger than Gabriel, who could pass for twenty-one or twenty-two. Sarah had no idea what their actual ages might be. The girl was obviously the cousin of Gabriel rather than sister—her hair was black and curly, her eyes wide and brown. She was rounder than any of the other female Shining Ones that Sarah had seen, edging towards the plump side of curvaceous. Sarah remembered the catty comment Jessamyn and Moira had shared at the reception: _Who knows where she's gotten. Probably off looking for something to eat._

"I hope you don't get along with your sister," Sarah said abruptly into the quiet. "Because I didn't like her at all."

This garnered a shy smile from the other girl; she put her book down and rose to her feet.

"Pleased to meet you," Callista said in a soft but clear voice. "I think that I'm going to like you, cousin. Jeremy always was my favorite uncle."

"Jeremy?" asked Sarah. "I thought that you guys called him Jeremiel."

"Everyone else does. He doesn't like it, though, so I've always used his human name. He brings me things from the Aboveground in gratitude." She pointed to her book, where _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ was written clearly across the cover. Sarah began to grin broadly.

"Impeccable taste. Are you the family rebel, then?"

"Rebel?" repeated Callista, surprised. "Quietly, perhaps. No one else notices; Jeremy and Gabriel's rebellion is more showy than mine. But now you've distracted me; I was supposed to show you to your room. Grandmother won't want you to stay in those clothes long." She gestured towards Sarah's jeans.

"Lady Dara rules her home with an iron fist," commented Sarah dryly. _The woman looks harmless and lovable, but I suspect she's quite the opposite._

"She would like to."

Callista led her to the room next door. The sitting room was more a short hallway than anything, furnished only with a couple of chairs and a side-table. They went through it and into the bedroom; it was smaller than her chamber in the Labyrinth had been, and the ceiling was certainly much lower. A curtained bed , a chair, a desk, and a wardrobe nearly filled it up.

"Hopefully the clothes fit," said Callista in a tone that was almost apologetic. "Would you like me to stay?"

"Certainly!" replied Sarah, very firmly. The other girl smiled back at her, shyly again, and sat in the lone chair. Sarah opened the wardrobe and found a multitude of outfits staring back at her.

_If closets full of clothing count as declarations of intent—and in the past, they have—then Angharad plans for me to stay for a long while._

Sarah sighed.

"What's the matter?" asked Callista.

"Nothing. Everything." Sarah pulled open a drawer and examined a pile of folded underthings dubiously. She shut it and began to pull out a green skirt.

"Well, which is it?" Callista laughed.

"Probably everything. You know, Lady Dara—Grandmother—sent me a letter awhile ago, when she first asked me to come here. I got the impression that she wanted me to marry some lord and stay Underground forever. I don't really want to do that. I don't think she's giving me a choice. Do you know anything about this?"

Sarah regarded the clothes with a little surprise. They were a very different style than the ones she had worn in the Goblin Kingdom—as was Callista's gown, she noticed. Less Renaissance, more Louis XV.

"I think... I'm sorry," said Callista in a rush. "I suppose I understand why you wouldn't want to be here. Yes, Grandmother was hoping to make a marriage for you, or at least that's the impression I got. I doubt she has much of a choice anymore; she told Her Highness about you, and Her Highness is determined that you form a connection with one of the Idunni lords. It would help greatly in the trade agreement she and King Gunnar are negotiating."

"_What?"_ asked Sarah sharply. "Her Highness?"

"Princess Eseld. She's our liege lord, in Cadfian... Grandfather and Grandmother are diplomats in her service. King Gunnar is the king here in Idunn."

"It will help in the _trade agreement_?"

"Oh, yes. You see, the Daras are a side-branch of the Triest family, who are the rulers of Cadfian. Since you are a Dara, then a marriage with a nobleman of Idunn—particularly one related to King Gunnar's House—will be a sign of goodwill."

"That's so... medieval," said Sarah in disgust. Callista looked at her blankly. Sarah sighed again and looked down at the skirt in her grasp.

"Do you need help with that?"

"I think so." The skirt seemed simple enough, but what about the rest of the outfit? There were other pieces in the closet, but nothing she could identify. And obviously some of the Dubious Undergarments would be required. Petticoats and such. "I think I need help with everything."

Hand hidden under the cloth in her arms, Sarah conjured a crystal. A split-second of concentration, and the pendant around her neck had transferred into her hand. After that, it was easy to slide it into the back pocket of her jeans. _It wouldn't do for my cousin to see this. Not yet, at least._

Twenty minutes later, the combined efforts of the two girls had squeezed Sarah into a corset, shift, bodice, stomacher, petticoat, and overskirt.

"I can't bend over," said Sarah mournfully, thinking of her Labyrinth-made clothes.

"That seems to be the least of your problems," replied Callista wryly. Sarah had to concede that.

A polite knock on the door intruded on their peace.

"Yes?" called Sarah after Callista seemed unwilling to speak.

"Miss Williams is required in the mistress's rooms," called a respectful voice from the other side of the door. The two girls exchanged glances with each other; after a moment of hesitation they filed toward the exit, Sarah in the lead.

Her summoner was a maid in livery, the Dara crest over her right breast. Three oak leaves. Sarah recognized the sigil from her letter's seal.

"This way, ma'am," said the maid. No stares, no exclamations, no curiosity in her face. Just polite blankness. It was refreshing, but did nothing to assuage her dread as she followed the maid out of her rooms.

"I'll be waiting for you," said Callista softly, attempting reassurance. "You will be fine."

_Fine, how?_ wondered Sarah. _Physically? Probably. Mentally? Probably. Emotionally? Probably. I doubt that any scars will be acquired. But if she bargains away my future and free will, well, that is most definitely not_ fine.

Sarah could hear raised voices as they approached Angharad's sitting room again, some familiar and some not.

_Jeremy?_

"... some trick of yours, Mother. I will not believe it. I have known Sarah for years—meager as my talents are, do you think I would have missed such a thing?"

"...calm down, brother! Hear her..."

"... she is being fetched, so you can see for yourself. There is a change..."

The maid knocked on the door, and spoke in the same toneless voice she had used with Sarah.

"Miss Williams, my lady."

"Send her in," replied Angharad's muffled voice, sounding less pleased than she had earlier that afternoon. Sarah raised her chin as the door opened and swept inside with as much dignity as she could muster.

She hadn't expected a full family gathering. Jeremy was there, yes, dressed in a button-down shirt and nice khaki slacks. But his brother and sister were there as well, accompanied by their spouses. Callistus Dara sat next to his wife, somehow managing to look aging and portly and handsome at the same time. Sarah ran through the others' names in her head: Tristam the brother, his wife Gwyneth, Rhoslyn the sister, her husband Maddox.

Seven pairs of eyes stared at her intently, sizing her up like a butcher looking at cuts of meat. The appearance of familiarity, lent by the fine furniture and clothing, faded away under the strength of their combined gaze. They were still and unmoving, gorgeous, alien and predatory. Sarah was just a fragile and ugly human.

_No_, she remembered slowly, through a heavy curtain of fear, _No, I'm not. _

_I have as much power as they, more power; I am as bright and beautiful as they are; someday, perhaps, I will be far older than they are. Lord Fellmarch could cut them, bleed them, kill them, while I would survive. _

_I am stronger than they are._

_ I am thinking like Sarah-daughter-of-Robert-sister-of-Toby-friend-of-Dinah, but her time is past. Right now, I need to think like Sarah-wielder-of-magic-consort-of-kings._

This new frame of mind would require practice, but Sarah gave it a try nonetheless.

"Hello, Jeremy. How is my mother?" Her voice was calm and disinterested, though her eyes flickered uneasily over the others in the room. Jeremy, standing, flinched a little at her voice. He leaned forward slightly, but didn't step towards her.

"She was well when I left her. She knows nothing of this." There was pain in his eyes, confusion, and helplessness too, which unnerved Sarah. The girl had hoped he would provide an avenue of escape.

"Well, I'm convinced," interrupted Tristam peremptorily, eyes trailing over her figure and up to her face. "Jeremiel?"

"I don't understand," murmured her stepfather, no longer standing up for her humanity.

"You have dwelt too long among humans," said Rhoslyn reproachfully. "Your senses are blunted; even ours were, in the polluted air of the Aboveground."

"None of us noticed either," added Maddox with a hint of a grin. Gwyneth sniffed.

"We saw her but a moment," replied the black-haired woman. "Though, I believe I did mention that she was uncommonly pretty for a human girl. Did I not say so, Angharad?"

"I do not remember that particulars of the conversation," snapped Lady Dara. "Callistus, what is your opinion?"

"Obviously the girl is one of our race. The only question is how. Our son denies siring her, so a man of another house must be her father. How is that to be dealt with?"

They were ignoring her. Discussing her parentage and her future without deigning to acknowledge her presence in the room. _The nerve of them_.

"Why are you so certain I'm one of you?" asked Sarah curtly. "There are more choices than just 'human' and 'Shining One', aren't there?"

The seven pairs of eyes turned to her once again. Tristam snorted.

"My dear girl, please stay out of matters you cannot comprehend," he said, blowing her off. He looked back at Callistus. "Legitimate or bastard, it hardly matters. Someone clearly performed the changeling spell, or else she would not have aged at the human speed—and she wouldn't have appeared human for so long. Whatever family she had abandoned her. She is now a scion of of House Dara, and should be treated as such."

If the situation hadn't been so dire, Sarah would have been amused at their certainty.

_Won't they be surprised when they find out the truth_, she mused grimly. _And I suppose they will. I'm not going to be able to escape this quietly. If I manage to just leave, they'll gather me right up again. I'll have to prove that I don't belong to them._

Unfortunate, really, since she was so leery of asking Jareth for help. She'd try to think of a better plan; Jareth would be her last resort.

"If I'm not needed here..?" interrupted Sarah, torn between curiosity and anger. Angharad reached toward her and patted her absently on the shoulder.

"You can run along now, my dear. Your other cousins will want to greet you, I'm sure."

_I'm sure they will_, she thought. _In one way or another._

"I'll escort you out," said Jeremy hastily, moving to Sarah's side. "Mother, Father, I'll return momentarily."

Sarah didn't start begging until the door was closed.

"Jeremy, _you have to get me out of here._"

"It's not that easy," he growled, hands raising to curl into his short hair. He was looking towards the sitting room when he said it, his anger directed at his family and not at her. "Bloody fucking hell. If I had known this would happen when I married your mum... I'm sorry, Sarah. Really I am."

"Hey, not your fault," Sarah said. It was true. She wasn't blaming Jeremy for any of this—he was a nice guy. His relatives were jerks, but he could hardly help that. "You didn't know I'd turn out to be... well... something else."

"Yes, about that." His strained face turned toward her, expression stern. "Do you know anything about this business?"

"I looked the same as always until I came into the Underground," replied Sarah innocently. _Not exactly a lie. I mean, I didn't change until I started learning magic in the Labyrinth.. _"I don't know how it happened."

Jeremy muttered something under his breath that she didn't catch.

"You're my stepfather, though—can't you do something? Forbid me to marry? Dedicate me to a chaste religious order?"

"Unfortunately, no." He frowned fiercely. "I'm not the head of the House—my father is. I might have had some sway over his decisions if I lived here in the Underground, but I'm the black sheep. My magical ability isn't worth a damn and I hardly ever show my face in Idunn. In other words, my opinion isn't worth much. He'll just do whatever Mother tells him."

"Oh." Sarah's shoulders slumped ever-so-slightly. Jeremy sighed heavily.

"Look, I'm not going to just throw you to the wolves. I still have friends in this kingdom; I'll see what I can do. If nothing else, I can find a fiancé for you that won't interfere in your life." His gaze turned thoughtful. "I know that Beoric's son is playing for the other team, if you follow me —a marriage of convenience would benefit him as well."

_Not much of an escape plan,_ thought Sarah sourly. _Looks like I'm still on my own._

"I really don't want to get married at all, you know," she commented sarcastically. Jeremy raised an eyebrow.

"I'll do my best, but don't hold your breath."

Sarah grimaced and Jeremy patted her gently on the back, an attempt at consolation. A kind attempt. He went back into the room and Sarah walked back down the long hallway, alone this time.

Returning to Callista's rooms, she found all five of her cousins lying in wait for her. Callista was squeezed into an armchair, reading a book and looking harassed. The others were talking languidly. Owain, raven-haired and beautiful, was lounging on the floor, leaning up against a love-seat. Moira and Jessamyn , one fiery and one dark but both pale, were sitting on top of the love-seat and leaning against each other. Gabriel sat alone on a couch, facing the other three.

This was the first time she had ever seen all of them assembled. Callista was obviously the youngest; the two girls looked to be the same age as Sarah herself. Owain might have been a little older, nineteen or twenty, while Gabriel definitely was a couple years older than that.

"Well, I'll be damned," began Owain when she entered the room, eyes flicking up and down her body appreciatively. An unconscious imitation of his father. "It's true. If I weren't already betrothed, I'd marry her myself."

"I know you can't avoid idiocy, but is incest really necessary as well?" Gabriel's voice was a study in disdain. He examined his fingernails, not looking up. Callista shot Sarah a pained glance and Jessamyn tittered behind her hand.

"That never stopped those two," countered Owain, nodding towards the girls next to him.

"There's no blood connection between Sarah and him," Moira pointed out calmly, ignoring her cousin's jibe. Jessamyn, though, was shooting her brother a venomous glare.

"As far as we know," interrupted Gabriel. "Which isn't very far. We've only ruled out Uncle Jeremiel."

"She could be one of Father's byblows," said Jessamyn, smirking. "She could be one of _your_ byblows, Owain, couldn't she? Wouldn't _that_ be kinky."

Sarah gaped. She couldn't help herself. Gabriel caught her eye, then, and patted a seat next to himself.

"Come, cousin, you may as well sit down if we're going to snipe at each other."

She did, grateful for what cool friendliness he afforded her. Owain leered at her from across the room.

"Why, _cousin_," Owain said, mocking Gabriel but speaking to her. "You are a cold one. I compliment you, express my interest, and you refuse me for our sarcastic kinsman. This won't do."

"I believe I rejected your propositions some months ago," replied Sarah frigidly. "Don't make me do it again."

Jessamyn and Moira laughed identical tinkling laughs, but Sarah wasn't so naïve as to believe it a friendly gesture; they were just amused at the insult to Owain.

_And I thought that Jareth was bad,_ she thought morosely. _This is just childish._

She was tired, hungry, worried, and her corset was jabbing her in the ribs. Sarah didn't have the patience for her cousin's games.

"When will dinner be served, Gabriel?" she asked abruptly.

"In an hour or so, I'd presume," he replied in a scrupulously polite tone. _As if the others would actually be influenced by his good example._ "Unless, of course, you would like to eat now—your journey must have been taxing. A tray could be brought to your rooms."

Of course it hadn't been taxing—the trip had taken all of a moment. This was a polite way of saying, _if you'd like to be rid of these irritating brats, just say the word._

"That does sound appealing," she agreed with false enthusiasm. "I am quite exhausted. Callista, would you like to join me? Perhaps you can answer a few questions I have."

Callista jumped when she heard her name, head darting up to identify the source. She blinked rapidly as Sarah's words registered in her brain.

"I—that is—sure." She smiled belatedly, but brightly. "I'd be happy to, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Gabriel, thank you for the suggestion. If the rest of you will excuse me..?" _Not that I particularly care whether they will or not. _

"But we've hardly spoken to you," said Owain mildly, batting his long black eyelashes over his sapphire-blue eyes.

"I don't know what you want to ask Callista about," added Jessamyn, "But I hope it's nothing much. She doesn't know anything about social affairs."

"If _I _were being betrothed in two days," said Moira, "I'd want to know a bit about my choices first."

"We can help with that," finished Jessamyn.

Inwardly, Sarah was shrieking _two days?!_ But outwardly, she just smiled frostily. A baring of teeth.

"I'll let you know if I need advice," she lied blithely. "Come on, Callista, let's go."

Sarah grabbed Callista's arm as the other girl joined her, a seemingly friendly gesture, and held as they walked out the door. A close look would have shown that Sarah's fingers were digging into the black-haired girl's skin.

"_Two days?_" Sarah whispered in a panicked voice, once the door swung shut behind them. "What did she mean, two days?"

"Um." Callista looked sheepish. "Usually, all birth, death, marriage, and betrothal announcements are made at the first Court function of the year—the ball. Which is the day after tomorrow. But they might make an exception for you, seeing as you just got here."

"I thought I had weeks," Sarah said numbly as they entered her room. "At least a month. Do you really think they'll hold me to it?"

"I don't know." Callista bit her lower lip, looking thoughtful and regretful and apologetic. "Maybe. It is a big tradition, and I think Grandmother has already arranged meetings for tomorrow."

"_Meetings_!" exclaimed Sarah.

"Well, yes. To see what you look like, make sure you're not some drooling lunatic, that sort of thing." Callista attempted a weak smile. Sarah stared.

"Things will change now, if you're not actually human like we thought. There might be more suitors for you that way."

Sarah stared.

"Sarah?" Callista looked worried now, eyes wide. "Are you alright?"

"Two days. How can I come up with an escape plan in two days?"

"Escape? You think you can escape?"

"I have to escape! I can't stay here, shackled to some man I don't know! Anything's better than that, even if I have kneel down and beg at the feet of J—" Sarah shut her mouth quickly. She let go of Callista's arm with a pat and looked at her hands.

"It won't be so bad. I can keep you company, and Gabriel too. It will be nice, having a friend around instead of just Owain and Jessamyn." She looked at Sarah hopefully.

_I like you, but I don't like you that much._ The thought was painfully selfish, but completely true. _Here comes the cruelty again. I pity the girl, having to live with these people, but not enough to do anything about it._

"Let's have dinner," Sarah suggested. "And then I want you to tell me everything you know about this ball that we're going to."

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A/N: And another one bites the dust! Another chapter, that is. Yes, I am a Queen fan. Kudos to everyone who's recognized the Queen references in some of my chapter titles (Labellily!) Hee hee. Can you spot the other song lyrics that I use?

So... no Jareth. No Jareth in the next chapter either, I'm saddened to admit, though a mention of him will definitely be made. But the chapter after that should be the long awaited ball... and the climax of the story? Dun dun dun... we shall see. Will Sarah call Jareth? Will she kick Owain's pervy ass? Will she stomp on Jeremy for being a weenie? Will she just totally pwn everybody (forgive the 1337 slang)? Stay tuned for further developments.

A round of applause (and a giant w00t) to reviewers new and old: **Acantha Mardivey, Cariah Delonne, Velf, Moonjava, Kathleen, Bex Drake, Anisky, Labellily, GoldenUsagi, Ophelia Eternal, Tellergirl, Midnight Lady, Lady Ione Athene, Solea, Lhiata, Fortune-the-vamp, Dark Avalon, Lyn, Eleanora Rose, Robyn Maddison, Jack Sparrows luv, Keito-chan, Shadow, Earthbrat, Shipperchick **and **Jill. **You are the wind beneath my wings, etc, etc. Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto. You get the picture.

Happy New Years!


	18. Where There's a Will

Chapter Eighteen: Where There's A Will...

Midmorning found Sarah dressed and ensconced in the Dara manor's drawing room, bookended on the couch by Callista and Jessamyn. An arrangement of fruit and dainty, sugar-covered pastries sat on the low table in front of them; the food that Sarah had already eaten was threatening to make a reappearance on the inlaid floor.

"Who's coming first, then?" asked Sarah, looking ornery. Her companions exchanged glances, the first sisterly gesture Sarah had seen out of them. Apparently they were united in the effort to make Sarah presentable.

"Laras Haraldur," Jessamyn offered languidly. "A count's fourth son. Wealthy." A pause. "Fairly good-looking." Another pause. "A bit older than Gabriel."

"What, exactly, am I supposed to say to this man?" Sarah's brow was drawn low over her eyes and her mouth was firmly set. "Hello, how-do-you-do? How do you feel about the Aboveground? What's your opinion on state-sanctioned rape? Do you promise not to beat me? Oh, wait, I forgot. They've come to interview me, not let me interview them."

The sisters were at a loss for words.

"You... won't... have to talk for very long," stammered Callista. "Each visitor will only stay for a quarter of an hour, at the most."

"I see. An archaic form of speed-dating."

"_Sarah_." Jessamyn's affected voice was tinged with irritation. "Don't be difficult. Since you're here, you might as well make the best of it. If you sit here and insult every man who comes to see you, you're going to end up with someone horrible."

"Ideally, I'd end up with no one," Sarah replied in an undertone. _So perhaps my plan to drool and babble to myself would backfire?_

"Things don't work that way," Jessamyn said severely. "You are part of the trade treaty now. As a member of House Dara, you _will _wed when Princess Eseld commands."

_I'd really like to give that woman a piece of my mind_, Sarah thought. _In the form of several chunks of concrete flying at her head._

"Jess, don't we need to..?" Callista was saying softly to her sister. Sarah looked at them questioningly when Jessamyn nodded briskly. The older sister rose to stand in front of Sarah.

"Right. Listen up, Sarah. The first suitor, Lord Haraldur, is of equal station with us. How do you think you'd address him?"

"I have no clue. Please, enlighten me."

"Just 'sir' in normal conversation, as he's older than you—but if there's another man in the room, which makes things more confusing, you could say Lord Haraldur. If he decides he likes you, he might ask you to use his given name; he's not that much older than us, so that's a possibility."

"Hmm," replied Sarah, unimpressed.

"When he comes in, you should make a low curtsy without bending your head or back—you _do_ know how to curtsy, don't you?" Jessamyn's voice suddenly became worried, as if she had just thought of this. Sarah's mouth crooked up on one side, in spite of herself.

"Yes, I know how to curtsy."

"Good. Good. As I was saying, a shallow curtsy, and offer him your hand to kiss. Do not _shake_ his hand. I understand that some humans do that in the Aboveground, but it is not at all proper here."

"I see."

"Callista," asked Jessamyn, "There are none of lesser station, are there? We won't have to worry about that for now."

"Lir Haldor?" Callista proposed meekly. Her sister considered this as Sarah watched, bemused. She felt like a bystander to her own impending doom.

"I—I don't know." Jessamyn appeared to be affronted by her own stupidity. "I shall have to ask Mama. Now, Sarah, don't worry, because Callista or I will tell you what to do before each meeting. There are different greetings for every station and position, but we don't expect you to memorize them now."

"Thank goodness," Sarah replied mildly, only a very weak attempt at sarcasm. Her companions didn't seem to notice.

"You will have to memorize them before the ball, though. Callista will follow you, though, won't you Callista? You won't have anything better to do, poor thing."

Callista smiled weakly, caught between a desire not to offend Sarah and a desire to snap at her older sister.

"And you will have to learn a few dances, so as not to embarrass yourself completely." Jessamyn paused, thinking. "A gown is being remade for you, so we don't have to see to that. There are other customs to know, for living at court, but that will have to wait; I'm sure everyone will be understanding, knowing that you've lived among _humans_ until now."

_Little bitch,_ thought Sarah as she smiled sweetly.

"Certainly," she said aloud. Jessamyn looked pleased at her compliance.

"Well, then. Mama will come down to sit with us soon, and then the men should start arriving."

Sarah nodded and tugged at her skirts, trying but failing to find a comfortable position in her corset. _This feels like a nightmare, _her brain muttered. _Some horrible, pizza-after-midnight induced dream. When did my life run off the rails? Why am I here still? Fuck it. And to hell with stupid Jareth, who's in too much of a snit to come and whisk me away. Not that I want him to. I'm gonna get out of here myself. Right after I figure out how. _

And so, eventually, it began.

Bachelor #1: Laras Haraldur.

Sandy hair, twentysomething, earnest smile and muddy hazel eyes. Beautiful, as all the Shining Ones were beautiful, with a glow to his skin that had nothing to do with light.

"Do you much enjoy the seaside, Miss Williams?" he asked politely. Gwyneth Dara, seated next to and a little behind Lord Haraldur, mouthed _estates—near—ocean._

"Oh, I don't know," Sarah simpered in return. "The wind does simply _awful_ things to my hair. I _do_ quite love sunbathing, though—pity, I don't think they sell bikinis here in the Underground, do they?" Sarah laughed a little fluttering laugh. Laras blinked and gaped, and Gwyneth scowled. Callista, seated close to Sarah on the couch, was trembling. Glancing to the side, Sarah saw her cousin's mouth pressed into a thin, desperate line, eyes stretched wide and cheeks flushed.

Sarah smiled at Laras Haraldur innocently and sipped at a porcelain cup of vile tea.

Bachelor #2: Gervaise Erastus.

Pale blue eyes, thirtysomething. Stocky and noticeably muscular, a change from the other men she had seen in the Underground. His skin was tanned, too, not the smooth perfection she had seen otherwise. Still pretty, though.

"The king's battle-leader," whispered Jessamyn before he came in, "But born a commoner."

"Do you ride much, Miss Williams?" General Erastus asked in a gruff baritone. "I understand that humans still do that, in the Aboveground?"

"Ride what?" Sarah asked, eyes wide. "Bicycles? Motorcycles? Mechanical bulls? Yes, no, and and not without a good deal of alcohol, respectively."

The general's eyebrows rose dramatically; Sarah was certain that, in all she had said, he had only understood the 'good deal of alcohol' part. He looked intrigued; Aunt Gwyneth looked horrified.

"Oh," exclaimed Sarah, aghast. "Oh, sir, did you mean _horses_? How... quaint."

Callista excused herself with a mumbled apology and disappeared through a door. Sarah imagined that she heard a gasping chortle from another room, but none of the others seemed to have heard anything.

Bachelors #3 and #4 came and went. Sarah amused herself by saying the most outrageous things that came to mind. After an hour, both Gwyneth and Jessamyn looked ready to murder her.

"You will stop this nonsense right now!" snapped Aunt Gwyneth after the last contestant left, brown eyes snapping and carefully-curled hair bouncing. "You should be honored that these men are interested in you, a foundling raised by humans and lucky enough to be stumbled upon by our family! Abandoned by whoever your real family was, Lady Dara was willing to take you in and make you one of her own! Show some respect and gratitude, girl!"

"Of course I'm grateful," growled Sarah through gritted teeth. "I don't know what you're talking about. Can't you see how _happy_ I am to be here? I'm simply _thrilled_ to be auctioned off by some princess I've never met, in order to secure a treaty in a land I've never heard of, much less sworn allegiance to."

"I cannot deal with you!" Gwyneth said shrilly. "Jessamyn, come—we're leaving. Rhoslyn and Moira can take a turn dealing with this hellion."

The two of them turned and flounced out of the room, leaving Sarah alone in the richly-decorated drawing room.

"Thank God for peace and quiet," Sarah muttered. She grabbed a tiny cake from the refreshments on the table, stuffing all of it in her mouth at one time. Now that nervousness had morphed into irritation, she found that she was ravenous.

The girl had barely swallowed when the double-doors opened again. She looked up, expecting her other aunt and girl-cousin to arrive, but was surprised to see a young boy slide through. He might have been ten years old, if he were a human; his clothing was quite fine and his face hinted at future beauty. He was alone.

"Hallo," he greeted genially, sliding into the chair across from her. "D'you mind if I have a bite? I didn't eat my breakfast today."

"Certainly," replied Sarah, pursing her lips in combined amusement and bemusement. "I'm hungry, myself. Those frosted cakes, there, are quite good."

"Mmpgh. Yeth. Lady Dawa—'scuse me, Lady Dara always has wonderful food at her parties. When I come. Not too often. Usually it's just for grown-ups, but sometimes me and my brothers are allowed. I went to Callista's birthday party. She's nice, and not so much older than me."

"Not so much," Sarah agreed. _Who is this kid and where did he come from_?

"You'd be Sarah, then?"

"That's me."

_I could see Toby looking like him, in a few more years. Shiny wheaten hair, gangly; except this one has dark eyes. _Any reminder of her family was comforting, even if it was in the form of an unknown but gregarious boy.

"I thought so. Mother told me about you—well, not really that much, but she was gossiping with Miniver's mother, so I heard a lot more. Are you a human?"

"Nope," Sarah replied. "Everyone thought I was, for awhile, but now they've decided that I'm not."

"That's strange," said the boy before pushing a cookie into his mouth. _And I agree with him. _" You 'ould fink 'ey'd nodice somefink 'ike 'at. Mmpgh. If they'd seen you before. You're not one of us, though are you?"

"What do you think?" asked Sarah, curious that he would even ask that. _From the mouths of babes..._

"Naw," he said thoughtfully, studying her with his long-lashed eyes. He stroked his chin with one hand, as if pulling on a beard. Sarah suppressed a grin. "I mean, you Shine, but you don't _look_ like us. You look like... I don't know. Too wild."

Sarah had noticed that too, to some extent. All thing Shining Ones, as beautiful as they were, had a weird sameness about them; as if someone had carbon-copied each face, only making variations for gender and coloring. There was a similarity to their features, and stiffness in their manner. Only Jeremy really escaped this assessment, but he had been living among humans for the past who-knows-how-many years. Callista did too, to a much smaller extent. Maybe Gabriel.

"Very perceptive of you," Sarah complimented him, eyebrows drawn low in thought. "No one else has seen that in me."

"It may just be your human upbringing, of course," he said, solemn. Sarah smiled crookedly.

"It may be, at that. Who knows?" _I do, for one._

"You are coming to the ball, are you not?" asked the little boy. Sarah nodded.

"I am. I have to. Will I see you there, young master?"

"Not me. I'm too young. Not any of the children. The parents are nervous, I think, when the Goblin King is around. As if he would just steal us without a _wish_." The boy's voice was derisive, as if he couldn't believe the adults' stupidity. Sarah froze.

"The Goblin King?" she asked, faintly.

"Yes. Don't you know of the Goblin King?"

"I—I have heard him mentioned," Sarah stuttered. "But what do you mean?"

"Well—," he plucked a grape from a bowl and ate it, "— he is a king. He's the only one of the old ones left, the people who aren't Shining Ones but aren't the lesser kind either. He is very old, and he takes little children away if you wish them to him. I dunno why, but everyone knows he has to. Filip-my-cousin's-cousin wished his little sister away a few days ago, but he got her back. He says a lady helped him in the maze, which is strange because I've never heard of it before but never mind about that. Anyway, people are scared of him because he is very powerful and he steals children, but he's also a king so Un—so King Gunnar invites him to Court functions anyway. _Our_ king isn't afraid of him. Some other people aren't afraid of him either, but a lot of people are. So us children never get to go to the ball until we're older."

The boy gulped in a breath and ate another five grapes. Sarah blinked and computed this deluge of information. The part about his cousin's-cousin caught her attention, but she pushed the thought aside for a moment.

_I guess that my sometime-teacher and onetime-pillow will be making an appearance after all. The asshole. Now what do I do with this knowledge?_

Sarah wasn't sure whether the lurching feeling in her stomach was fear, anticipation, indigestion, or something else altogether.

"You know," she addressed the boy, "I don't know your name. Hardly fair, if you have mine."

The boy flushed a little bit around the ears, looking sheepish.

"Um. I'm sorry. I'm a very rude person, Mother says, but I forget these things sometimes. She was supposed to come here with me, but I escaped from her. My name's Lir Haldor." He offered her an impish smile. "Pleased to meet you. But I should probably be going, now—Mother will find me soon, and I don't want her fussing around us."

He stood and bowed a little in front of her, before taking her hand and kissing it as gallantly as any of her suitors had. Then he sauntered back out of the doors. Sarah shook her head in wonder.

_What an odd lad. Lir Haldor—now why does that name sound familiar?_

A few minutes later, Callista's head popped into the room, looking back and forth.

"I'm sorry for the delay, but your next visitor is missing. He seems to have escaped his overseer."

Sarah was struck with a horrifying thought.

"What is this one's name?" she asked weakly.

"Lir Haldor. He's the youngest son of one of the king's half-brothers. Quite an honor, even if he is young and a half-nephew."

Sarah's jaws worked up and down before she could get any sound to come out.

"_Holy crap_."

"What?"

"You are kidding me. You _are_ kidding me. You are _not_ saying that one of my potential husbands is a _ten-year-old_!"

"He's not ten," Callista said, affronted. "He's at least fifty or sixty, I should think. I don't know how that works out in human years." A light went on in her head. "Wait—how did you know? Have you seen him?"

"Yes! He was in here! We had a nice long chat, and I quite liked him, but not in a _marrying_ way. My God, are you people into pedophilia?"

"Calm down, Sarah! It's just a betrothal. You might not even marry him until he comes of age. Even if you do, you'd hold off on... relations... until he's old enough. What do you think we are?" Callista, sweet mild Callista, looked offended and hurt. Sarah couldn't bring herself to feel sorry.

"And I will be how old by then? That won't make things any better!"

"If you had acted sensibly with the grown men, perhaps you wouldn't have to worry about it!" Callista said. She withdrew from the room and shut the door with a loud _click _behind her.

The day wore on, and reinforcements showed up in the form of Aunt Rhoslyn and cousin Moira.

Bachelor #6: Ailil Fiachra.

Raven-haired, slate-eyed, slim, and gorgeous. Older than Laras but younger than Gervaise—in other circumstances, Sarah would have been tempted. At the moment, she was scornful. Her aunt had informed her that he was an heir to a barony, but a knight in his own right.

"My father is quite close with your own, I believe," he told her politely. "Beoric Fiachra. Has he mentioned him to you before?"

_Ah, yes,_ thought Sarah, remembering her heated conversation with Jeremy the day before. _Beoric's son—this must be who was talking about. The last resort, the man who prefers other men. I guess my step-father was unable to prevent my upcoming nuptials. What a surprise._

"He has, actually," Sarah replied, not mentioning Jeremy's exact words. Probably that would be a bad move. "How nice to meet a friend of the family."

Sarah was too weary to continue with her previous word-games. She conducted the meeting straightforwardly and pleasantly. When Ailil took his leave, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

The ordeal was over. For now.

"I'm sorry if I was short with you, before," said Callista remorsefully as they ate lunch in Callista's sitting room. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're out of sorts. Did you like _any _of them?"

"Did I like them?" repeated Sarah ruminatively. "Yes, I liked some of them, though the first one was boring and the third one seemed kind of pervy. I definitely liked Lir. But I don't want to marry any of them. Is that so hard to understand? Doesn't anyone here marry for love?"

"Very rarely." Callista smiled slightly. "Almost everyone is betrothed when they're children. A few of your suitors are younger sons in large families, so they've been allowed to make their own choices. General Erastus was born a commoner, so he too can pick his own spouse as well. Lir Haldor, of course, is still a child. And those of us with stunted magical abilities, like Uncle Jeremy and me, are not particularly desirable as matches."

"You can't do magic?" asked Sarah, suddenly understanding her other cousins' disdain for the girl.

"A little bit, but not reliably. Maybe I'll go live in the Aboveground like Jeremy, someday. Here, our disability is something of a double-edged sword. Since we aren't betrothed, we are free to marry for love; but who would want us, as we are?"

"We should both escape," proposed Sarah. "You can come with me back to the Aboveground; we could go to college together and you can settle down with a nice human man who thinks that you're gorgeous and perfect."

"Wishful thinking," said Callista ruefully. "No, I'll reach my majority soon enough, and then I can go off on my own. As for you—well, good luck."

"What if I don't have magic?" Sarah asked, the thought occurring to her for the first time. "Would they let me go?"

"Sorry." Callista laughed. "Are you joking? Of course you do. Gabriel said he's never seen someone Shine so bright as when you were yelling at Grandmother. That means you have potential, a lot of it. I'm sure that you'll be taught magic later, once you get settled in."

"Oh." _There goes that idea. _"Damn."

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A couple hours were spent teaching Sarah the intricacies of Idunni ballroom dancing, a tiring if not entirely unenjoyable pursuit. This was followed by a mind-numbing etiquette lesson, a family dinner-from-hell, and a quick retreat to her bedroom.

Sarah was lying on her bed in a long white nightgown, staring at the pale ceiling.

_Why am I just lying here? Why am I not doing anything? Why aren't I constructing a rope out of the sheets, and lowering myself out of the window? How is this still happening to me?_

The ceiling remained silent, ignoring her questions. Sarah pounded a fist against the blue counterpane, face twisting into a frustrated grimace.

_Oh, I could stay here, as I could have stayed with Jareth; I could marry one of these pretty young, not-so-young, and too-young men. Live in this strange pretty world, float through the days... the easy path. Slowly sucking my identity from me, day after day. That's the hard part, the part I've been struggling with since this mess began. How do I preserve my self, how do I stay _me

Sarah formed a crystal in the palm of her hand, mesmerized by the shimmer and glow inside its thin shell. She threw it up in the air and aimed a barely-formed thought at it, pure willpower. The crystal dissipated at the height of its journey, leaving the girl's gold-and-silver pendent to fall back down into her hand.

_I can form pure magic out of thin air, summon objects to myself with a thought. I have changed, am changing, will continue to change. But I do have the power, I think, to prevent myself from changing into something completely undesirable._

She had to get out of Idunn, but she also had to convince the Daras not to retrieve her the moment she left.

_A grand gesture will be required. Something that will put me perpetually off-limits._

The ball would provide plenty of witnesses, hundreds in fact. A grand gesture indeed.

_What form will this gesture take?_

Sarah rubbed the smooth surface of her pendent with a thumb, admiring the light reflecting off of the cool metal. Then she used a crystal to replace it in her wardrobe, hidden in a bundle of cloth in a drawer.

_These people are sadly mistaken in their assumptions about me. If they think I'll just roll over and listen to their commands. If they think I'm their property. If they think that I'm simply a nice, safe, untrained little Shining One—whatever asinine name they call themselves—and can't do a thing to stop them._

Sarah smiled faintly to herself, coral-red lips curving over the cold carved alabaster of her face. She might actually enjoy this.

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A/N: A short bridge chapter—thank God I've gotten through it! Finally, the interesting bits are coming up next... and I am very happy to be writing them.

Muchos gracias to **Solea, Moonjava, Velf, Acantha Mardivey, Eleanora Rose, Cariah Delonne, GoldenUsagi, Writer from Rivendell, Robyn Maddison, mav1, Midnight Lady, Dreamerwithblades, Fortune-the-vamp, Bex Drake, Bluegirl2751, Lyn, Draegon-fire, HarrySlytherinson, The Old Fart, Mej, **and **Pantherette!**


	19. Back in Black

**Chapter Nineteen: Back in Black**

_A/N: Okay, first I will say—don't shoot me, please. This chapter is only half of a chapter. It is 11 pages, the size of a normal chapter, so hopefully that will appease you... but events are cut off halfway. I really want to revise the second half, and this chapter was really long, so I'm going to be posting the second half as Ch.20 in a couple of days. I figured that you'd want an update as soon as you can, and I felt really bad about taking so long, so... here's this to tide you over._

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They let her out of the house, that last day, which came as a surprise to Sarah. She had forgotten that her prison wasn't a conventional one; it stretched above her, below her, and all around, farther than the eye could see. Why shouldn't they let her explore it?

On a suggestion from one of her aunts, Sarah piled into a closed carriage with her plethora of cousins—uncomfortable, because Jessamyn was still annoyed with her and Owain was still a lech. The ride was stuffy and crowded, even with the window open, but Sarah did her best to ignore the noise inside and concentrate on the scenery ambling past them.

Idunn was more civilized a place than the Goblin Kingdom would ever be; this was a place of neat orderly magic, not the wild and treacherous kind that lurked in the corners of the Labyrinth. Ironically, this land seemed almost human by comparison. _Not that I'd ever dare to say that aloud,_ Sarah thought with amusement. _They would have a fit. But it's true; they aren't so different from the despised humans as they think, while the lesser fairies that they look down upon are actually more otherworldly than they are._

The road they traveled was cobblestone, picturesque but jarring when combined with the rolling of the carriage wheels. Slightly inclined, as well. Short stone walls, perhaps two or three feet high, divided the road from the surrounding countryside. Beyond the walls was open field, broken by rocky outcroppings and the occasional manor perched on top. For the first time, Sarah realized that they were in the mountains.

"This is... odd," Sarah said hesitantly. "Is there no capital city?"

"Of course there's a capital," Jessamyn replied brusquely. "We'll be there soon enough."

"It's on the other side of the mountain," said Callista helpfully. "And our manor is in the lowlands, you see, while the king lives further up. The city cascades down the mountainside."

"Who lives in these other places?"

"Other ambassadors' families," Gabriel said. He sat across from Sarah, while Callista was squeezed next to her. "It's a complicated system. All of the noble families have their own homes somewhere in Idunn. Being ambassadors, Grandmother and Grandfather and the others live fairly close to the king. When Court isn't in session, they reside here with the family. When it is in session, they live in the palace with other nobles. Unless they own homes in town. The families, though, not being needed for political affairs, can live down here or up there as they desire."

"I'm sorry I asked," Sarah said dryly. "So. Why are we going the palace now?"

"_We're_ going to visit with friends," Jessamyn said crossly. "_You _can do what you like."

"Ah-ha."

"Cheer up, Jess," chided Moira. "Sarah can come with us if she wants. You'll be perfectly polite this time, Sarah, won't you? It would be nice if you could make a few acquaintances before tonight."

"Don't want to be left without anyone to dance with," Owain added in a sing-song voice.

Sarah winced.

"There's a nice view from the palace grounds," Gabriel added, turning his face toward the window and rolling his eyes discreetly. "And the gardens are quite lovely this time of year."

"Hmm," replied Sarah noncommittally.

The carriage rolled along up the road and eventually they rolled into the city. It was fairly impressive, curling around the slope of the mountain as it did, with the palace perched at the top. Pennants waved from the towers, lending the beige stone structure a festive air.

But Sarah wasn't in a mood to be impressed. It was a small mountain, anyways. And she'd seen castles before.

Liveried servants met them as they drove into a courtyard, taking the horses and opening the doors. Owain and the two older girls began to head in one direction, leaving Sarah with Callista and Gabriel.

"What about you?" Sarah asked Callista. She shrugged.

"I was going to go to the library," Callista said sheepishly. "It's very large."

Sarah, remembering her experiences the last time she had been in a library, looked towards Gabriel. He crooked an eyebrow at her.

"Well, come along then, if you're not feeling sociable." He turned and started walking towards a wooden door in a wall. Sarah jogged a few paces to catch up with him, wincing at the corset that imprisoned her ribs. _No doubt I'd die of asphyxiation if I tried to run any distance in this get-up. _

The door led to a narrow barrel-vaulted hallway, completely unadorned. At the end was another door, which her cousin pushed open confidently. _Obviously he knows where he's going._ They emerged onto a huge stone terrace, wide and smooth; the wind swept violently across it, pulling at Sarah's skirts and making her eyes water. Gabriel winced slightly and brushed his ruddy hair out of his face.

"It's a bit windy today," he commented in a raised voice, striding towards the edge of the terrace. Sarah grinned at the understatement.

"A bit," she called back. "So we're on the top of the mountain now?"

"Yes, though it hardly deserves the name. These are just foothills compared to the real ones." Reaching the railing at the edge of the terrace, Gabriel pointed into the distance. Craggy peaks jutted out beyond them, hazy and far away.

"You can see for miles from up here," he added. "Luck for us, it's a clear day."

Sarah nodded in agreement, glancing away from the mountains. They melted away as she turned her head, leaving a great flat plain in her view.

"What's that?" she yelled, the wind dampening her voice.

"A desert. Idunn has mountains to the north, desert to the west, ocean to the east, and farmland to the south. We're frontier-land, caged in on three sides."

"So all of this—" she gestured to the north and west, "—is uninhabited?"

"Near enough. The mountains are populated by barbarians—ogres mostly, though some say that there are still dragons lurking in the northern wastes. The desert is nigh impassable and almost empty. At the very center is the Goblin Kingdom and the Labyrinth, the only life for hundreds of miles. No one knows how it came to be there, alone in the dust."

Surprised, Sarah stared at the desert. She saw nothing but land, not even the tiniest speck that could have been the towers of the Goblin King's castle.

"Daedalus sucked the power from the land on the orders of King Minos," Sarah said to herself. "Leaving a waste. When the spell was broken, the wild magic was stuck in the form of the Labyrinth."

Gabriel turned his head sharply to look at her. His eyes narrowed.

"What did you say?" he yelled over the wind. Sarah shook her head.

"Nothing."

"Indeed." He paused. "Why don't we get out of this gale."

They found a set of rocky stairs leading down, depositing them on a gravel path lined with hedges. This was the garden mentioned before, a delicate pattern of bushes and flowerbeds that cascaded down the incline. The wind was gentler down there, with plants providing something of a barrier.

"Has Lady Dara picked out my husband yet?" Sarah asked, hoping to distract her companion in case he had heard her.

"You think that I would know?"

"Well. Maybe." Sarah halted. "Do you?"

"Yes. I believe she has."

"Who is it?"

"Does it really matter?" Gabriel smiled faintly. "You plan to fight it regardless."

"True enough." _I think I can trust him. He seems sympathetic, at least._ "Any advice on extricating myself from the situation?"

"Extricating." His lips twitched, almost another smile. "You could beg the king for his protection on the grounds that you're being mistreated by your House. But, strictly speaking, you're not. And your marriage benefits King Gunnar, so he'd be unlikely to intervene."

"Thanks for the help," mumbled Sarah sarcastically.

"I'm not done. There would be one other way, I think—if you could prove that House Dara has no right to offer you in marriage."

"Judging from your tone, you don't seem to think that they do have a right." The girl watched him carefully, annoyed by the blank expression on his face. Gabriel was hard to read.

"Uncle Jeremiel married your mother. If no other House has a prior claim on you, you belong to us."

"That wasn't an answer."

"You are an strange young woman, Sarah, and not only because of your so-sudden change of species." Sarah flinched slightly at the amusement in his voice. "I think that you know more than you let on, and I wish I knew exactly what that was. Perhaps it will be your key out of here; perhaps not. I can only tell you where the door is."

"I... see." Sarah offered him a tentative smile. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. As you Abovegrounders would say—you owe me one."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sarah's plan was simple—_but,_she insisted to herself, _there is beauty in simplicity. And more importantly, there are fewer things to go horribly wrong. Simplicity is awesome._

This was the plan: Sarah would go to the ball. Somehow, she'd get everyone's attention. She's make a scene. She'd conjure some crystals, try to do some flashy magic. This would prove that she was not A-Dara-or-a-Shining-One-thank-you-very-much, but instead Jareth-kind. If all else failed, she'd find a pointy object and slash her wrists open, hoping A) she wouldn't die and B) everyone would notice and be terribly impressed by her _mad healing skills_.

And then, somehow, she'd find someone to take her home. Perhaps Gabriel would oblige her.

_It's not such a bad plan, _Sarah thought on the carriage ride back to the Dara manor. _I mean, at least I have a plan. I haven't jumped into this willy-nilly, throwing tantrums and all that. There are a few weak spots, but that allows flexibility. Right? Right. _

Jareth was the unknown factor in her machinations; she knew that he would be at the ball, but she didn't know what _he _was planning. There was no doubt he was plotting _something—_he was nothing if not devious. He practically oozed deviousness.

He made his first interference that evening. Lord and Lady Dara had left for the castle early to take care of political duties; the children were left to prepare for the ball on their own.

"Miss Sarah?" said a voice as Sarah entered her rooms. One of the ever-present maids was there, prim and staid as always—except this one had a slightly uneasy expression on her face. Callista filed in behind Sarah, nudging her out of the doorway.

"Yes?"

"There's a pro—I mean—there's a bit of a situation with your gown?" The maid ended the sentence on a high note, inadvertently turning it into a question. Sarah blinked.

"What do you mean, a situation?" demanded Callista, crossing her arms. "Viola, Sarah _must_ have something to wear for the ball. Grandmother will be furious if it's not ready..."

"No!" protested Viola, looking more alarmed. "Don't tell the mistress! It's not—the gown is fine, it's just that... well..."

"What?" asked Sarah, curious.

"...you see, someone left you something else. I don't know where it came from."

"You're not making any sense, Viola," Callista said reasonably.

Viola was frustrated—Sarah was now the uneasy one.

"Where is it?" she asked abruptly.

"On the bed, inside," replied the maid, nodding her head toward Sarah's chamber. Sarah strode toward the door, ignoring the voices conversing behind her. Pushing the door open, she saw it—and began to understand why Viola had seemed so flustered.

A mass of shining silvery-gray fabric was stretched out upon the counterpane, rich even in the dim light of the room. Sarah stared and moved closer, holding her breath. It was a deep gray, almost exactly the same color she had worn to Linda and Jeremy's reception, with black and pale silver ribbons ornamenting the bodice, sleeves, and skirt. The shine resulted partially from the quality of the silk moire, but mostly from silver thread and milky seed pearls sewn into it.

_Holy shit. _

There was a small box next to it, roughly the size of both of her hands. She picked it up shakily, opened it, and found a small piece of paper folded inside. There were two words written on it.

_You're it._

It was a challenge. That much was obvious.

Beneath the note were silver vines, the kind that could be woven into hair.

"Oh, my," gasped Callista as she came into the room. Sarah flicked her eyes over to her cousin; she was staring at the bed, Viola the maid hovering behind her. "That's... that's quite a dress."

"You're telling me," replied Sarah morosely. It _was_ quite a dress. It definitely wasn't the sort of thing that an adopted member of an ambassadorial family would wear. _This is a dress for a quee..._

Sarah halted mid-thought.

_What _is _Jareth playing at?_

"Maybe Miss Sarah's betrothed sent it?" offered the maid timidly. Callista appeared to consider this. Sarah kept her mouth shut.

"I don't know if any of them were that rich," she said doubtfully. "And how would they know the measurements? And the betrothal was only decided today. It doesn't make sense."

Very discreetly, and with very little thought, Sarah squished the note up in her hand and made it disappear.

"Well, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth," Sarah said blithely. The other two women looked at her blankly. Sarah rolled her eyes. "I'll wear it."

"Is that a good idea?" asked her cousin uncertainly. "I'm not sure Grandmother..."

"Grandmother can shove it. Viola, if you will assist me?"

Viola curtsied slightly and began to help unlace Sarah's bodice. Callista looked unhappy, but she didn't speak up again.

So it was done. A couple hours later, Sarah was dressed and coiffed, the silver vines woven expertly through her mass of mahogany-brown hair. Her gray skirts trailed on the ground behind her, divided down the front to show a paler petticoat bedecked with ribbon and ruffles and more pearls. The square neckline dipped low, showing a lot more cleavage than Sarah liked, but she was reassured when Callista's gown was little better. _I'll just have to remember not to bend over_, she thought as she studied her reflection.

"You look very nice," said Callista in a small voice, behind her, dressed in her own midnight-blue finery. Her eyes were very wide. "But this is still... strange."

"Quite," agreed Sarah amiably. She heard the sound of a door opening outside of her room, followed swiftly by swishing skirts and the creak of the bedroom door.

"Sarah, Callista love, we really need to be going—"

Moira, draped in pale green, halted in her tracks. Jessamyn, her ever-present shadow, stopped behind her.

"Someone sent me a dress," Sarah explained, somewhat cheered by their pole-axed expressions. _Score one for the human chick. _"A secret admirer, I guess."

"You can't just except a gift from a stranger; there are obligations connected it it. Grandmother will be angry," chided Jessamyn, predictably enough.

"Does she have to know? I can avoid her easily enough. She won't find out until we get there, at least, which will be too late."

All three of Sarah's cousins exchanged glances. Sarah sighed loudly.

"I am leaving. You can follow me, if you like, or stay here whimpering. I don't much care."

She flounced out of the room and downstairs. She was very proud that she tripped only once. After a few moments, she could hear the others walking slowly behind her.

"Mmm-mmm," remarked Owain from his post on the main floor, leaning against the banister. "You look good enough to eat, Sarah."

"Fuck off, Owain," Sarah replied briskly. Gabriel, standing next to the other young man, took in her appearance with a small grin. He didn't say anything. His thoughtful expression was telling enough.

They left, using magic to travel instead of the carriage. Gabriel took Sarah, Owain took Callista, and the other girls took themselves.

The ballroom of the palace was already fairly full when they finally arrived, men and women milling about in their best finery. The room was very tall, very long, and very wide, with heavy draperies covering high doors onto balconies. Quietly in the corner, a group of musicians was playing something complicated and indefinably foreign.

With shining skirts, vines in her hair, and a wondering expression on her face, Sarah entered the cavernous chamber. A niggling sense of familiarity was dancing in the back of her brain.

A couple swept past her and her cousins, looking both curious and amused as they glanced at her. They were followed by another, and then a group of several women, all looking at her with recognition on their faces. Sarah could imagine the whispers—_the new Dara girl, daughter of the son that lives Aboveground. She was raised among _humans... _can you imagine?_

Two beautiful pale-eyed men, arm-in-arm, gave her appreciative looks before moving past. A young woman close by laughed delightedly into her hand and murmured something to a companion.

_I have done this before_, Sarah realized with a jolt, an overwhelming sense of deja-vu enveloping her. _The gown is darker and more adult, and I am older, and the room is larger, but... I've done this before._

The smirking faces, the disorientation, the beautiful people twirling slowly—she had seen something very similar, years ago, when Jareth had tried to entrap her in a dream. She had been very young then, unsure of herself, embarrassed by the honest appraisal in the eyes of the dancers. Their leers had bewildered her.

Now, though...

"Let's find a quiet spot to stand," whispered Callista into Sarah's ear. "We'll decide what to do then." The younger girl nodded her head across the room, toward an empty spot next to a row of potted trees. Sarah surveyed the wall of arrogant Fair Folk between them and their destination—she could see many blond heads in the crowd, but none of them were familiar. No Jareth in sight.

"Come on," Callista whispered. "Are you nervous?"

"Nervous," repeated Sarah at a normal volume, eyes flicking over the faces. Her voice sounded very far away, as if someone else were speaking through her. The voice didn't sound nervous at all.

There—a flash of pale, pale gold hovering over black—but no, it was gone.

Sarah Williams raised her chin very slightly, straightened her back, and drooped her eyelids just a little bit. She arranged her coral-red lips into an amused and arrogant smile. She glanced down at her cousin, who was shorter and dowdier and somehow younger.

"Not really," she replied. She was, after all, an actress.

"Brave."

"Nah." Sarah chuckled, self-mockingly. "Not brave. I'm stupid, and stubborn, and headstrong, and contrary, and short-tempered. If I were brave, I wouldn't be here at all." _I would have had the nerve to talk to Jareth after that night, instead of running away. _

"Braver than me," muttered Callista. She pulled the other girl through the throng, face tilted down at the floor. Sarah looked around in interest as they walked, careful not to meet anyone's eyes. "Everyone's staring at us."

"Yeah?"

"That's what you get for dressing above your station," Callista replied darkly. She maneuvered them between two trees, the niche offering them some modicum of privacy. She mostly blocked Sarah from everyone's view. "There's a big clock on the wall. Can you see what time it is?"

Sarah stood on her tiptoes and swept her eyes around the room, looking over her friend's shoulder. There it was, a fancy gilded affair. The numerals were crowded on the face, going from one to thirteen.

"Yes. It's a little past ten."

"Alright. The announcements will be made starting at thirteen o'clock. It's the tradition. So we have three hours. I don't know for certain, but I think that Lir Haldor is the ma—well, the one they picked to marry you."

Sarah couldn't halt the disgust that rose to her face, even though she wasn't planning on sticking around to be married. "The kid."

"You'll have a lot of freedom," reassured Callista. "And you won't have to have any children for years and years. And he's a very nice boy. You'll be fine."

"What do I do until then?" asked Sarah, changing the subject before she started yelling at her cousin. _She means well, I know she does, but somehow she doesn't quite understand. How does she not understand?_

"You _should_ get out and meet people," she said. "Dance with anyone who asks you, make small talk, be charming, show all the ladies that you aren't a barbarian."

"But..?" asked Sarah, hearing it in Callista's tone.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to. I don't much like talking to strangers myself."

"You and me both," Sarah said under her breath. She looked out beyond Callista's shoulder. Moira was visible at the other side of the room, hanging on the arm of a young man in an aubergine coat. She caught sight of a yellow head walking towards her and Callista, and started a little bit, before she realized it was Jeremy. Jeremy as she had never seen him before, in gray breeches and a velvety robin's-egg-blue coat. His hair was still fashionably short, a contrast to the neat queues of the other Idunni men.

"Uncle Jeremy at twelve o'clock," said Sarah dryly. Callista blinked at her, uncomprehending. Sarah sighed.

"Human slang. Jeremy's walking straight toward us."

"Oh!" Callista spun around. "I see."

"Sarah!" called Jeremy, half-jogging to them. "I've been looking all over for you. My _god_, I hate these affairs. How are—did _Mother_ buy you that?" He stared incredulously at her gown, frowning when he noticed the neckline. Sarah rolled her eyes. _Oh, great, he gets all fatherly _now _because he doesn't approve of my clothes. Thank a lot, step-dad._

"Nope," Sarah said simply. "How's it going? How's Mom? Haven't heard from her since I left New York."

"Fine." His eyes narrowed. "She's fine."

"I was hoping she'd come to my graduation, but I guess that's not gonna happen now. When are you going to tell her that you're letting your mother marry me off to a prepubescent elf?"

"Look, Sarah." His jaw tightened. His accent was clipped. "I am a weakling. I am a freak, a mutant, a cripple in this world. I could try to magic you out of here, but I'd just as likely transport you into a volcano by mistake. I couldn't even get here on my own; Rhoslyn had to pick me up! _I am trying my best._"

"Don't bother yourself."

"I realize you're angry, but think a moment. This is just a betrothal announcement; you won't be married for months, at least. You have lots of time. We'll think of something."

_Huh. _I'm_ leaving tonight._

"This isn't his fault, Sarah," pleaded Callista. And it wasn't, really, Sarah knew that. But Angharad Dara was never around when she needed someone to yell at.

"Fine," Sarah said. Jeremy look relieved.

"I promise I'll find a way to get you back Aboveground. I even asked—" He stopped abruptly, as if just remembering something. "Ah. I should probably warn you, Sarah, Jareth's around tonight. Don't cause a scene, okay?"

Sarah stared at him, not sure whether to laugh or cry. _Don't cause a scene. Oh, my. Jeremy has no idea._

"He's here?" she said tightly, trying to force her face into some semblance of innocence. Jeremy misinterpreted her tone.

"Yes, he is. Remember he's a king here. Show some respect."

"Huh." _Respect? No way. I'd never hear the end of it._

"I told him about your situation, you know, since he does have influence over King Gunnar. I was hoping he could help."

"You did? What did he say?" Sarah was suddenly intrigued.

"That you deserved any trouble that you'd brought onto yourself." Jeremy shook his head. "Don't ever let him know I said this, but sometimes he's no better than you are."

_Oh, the irony._

"What are you talking about?" asked Callista, brow furrowed. Her two companions looked down at her, having forgotten she was there. "I know that you know the Goblin King, uncle, but... Sarah?"

"I met him when Jeremy and my mom were married, of course," Sarah lied quickly. "We didn't really like each other. I guess I was kind of rude." Which was actually true enough.

"Why is everyone crowded here in the corner?" inquired a dry voice. Sarah peered behind Jeremy and spotted Gabriel, holding a cut-glass snifter of something alcoholic. There was another young man beside him, tall and very thin. He wore long robes, unlike the other males in the room, and his skin was a color between polished ebony and old leather.

"Hiding," replied Sarah. "How about you?"

"Searching. Good evening, Uncle Jeremiel. Sarah, this is my good friend Setekh."

"Who would like to dance with you," added Setekh in a musical voice. "If he may."

"Set's from another diplomatic family. Don't worry, he won't try to marry you." The alcohol was making Gabriel almost... jocular. _How odd._

"I promise." Setekh's voice was so solemn that Sarah had to smile. She looked at her girl-cousin and step-father questioningly. They shrugged and Callista made a shooing motion.

"I'd be happy to," Sarah said resolutely. She scooted past all the relatives in the way and held out her hand.

It was a nice dance—Setekh had a pleasant smile and he reminded her a tiny bit of Ben. _Ben, Dinah, Aaron... don't think about that. _His jokes, temporarily at least, kept her mind off her predicament. Her eyes still searched for glints of pale gold among the dancers... but she never caught a glimpse of her quarry. Jeremy had said Jareth would be here, but she saw no sign of him.

After her partner had thanked her and sauntered off, Sarah was presented with other dancers, and then cornered by a pack of curious young women of the court. Eventually she was able to lose them, but she was intercepted by Lir Haldor's older brother, who congratulated her and very delicately flirted with her. Sarah extricated herself from the situation as quickly as possible. She was able to locate Callista again at half past eleven, and spent a comfortable half-hour hiding in the trees and sipping punch.

Moira and Jessamyn sauntered up just as she had disposed of her drink.

"We talked to the mother of your betrothed," said Moira conversationally. "The dress didn't come from their family."

"Oh?" replied Sarah, not much concerned. They weren't going to guess its actual genesis. They couldn't. "Curiouser and curiouser."

"Alice in Wonderland!" squealed Callista, a happy smile on her face. "I love that book."

Moira looked bored and Jessamyn sniffed.

"You would," Moira said simply. She turned her attention to Sarah again. "How are you enjoying yourself? I can remember my first ball—it was wonderful." She adjusted the lace on her sleeves languidly.

"The room is certainly very fine," replied Sarah diplomatically. "And the music is nice."

"Is that all?" asked Moira incredulously.

"She doesn't know anybody," put in Callista weakly. "Can't blame her if she's bored."

Moira looked affronted for a moment.

"I suppose," she said doubtfully. "Jess, do you... Jessamyn?"

Jessamyn was distracted, staring off into space. She didn't respond.

"What's wrong?" Moira prompted. Jessamyn shook herself a little bit but didn't move her eyes.

"Nothing," she started, voice breathy. But then she continued. "I... our boys are undoubtedly beautiful." Sarah was confused by the non sequitur; the other girls looked equally uncomprehending. Jessamyn paused and licked her lips. "But when one wants something more..."

Moira's eyes shifted to stare at a spot behind Sarah's back. Callista stifled a gasp; Sarah realized belatedly that Jessamyn had been watching someone.

"Oh, Jess," sighed her russet-haired cousin. "He'd eat you alive and spit out your bones."

The hair on the back of Sarah's neck prickled. She began to spin around and Moira grabbed her arm tightly.

"Slowly!" she hissed. "Look natural. He's coming this way."

Slowly, slowly, Sarah turned around to face the opposite direction.

She looked...

...and...

...it was him.

_Breathe._

All four girls stood like deer in headlights as the Goblin King approached them, pressed as close as their wide skirts would allow. By some twist of fortune, Sarah was standing alone in front, with her three cousins a step behind her.

He stalked, he swayed, he strode, he sauntered. He did not swagger—he prowled.

_Don'tpanicdon'tpanicdon'tpanicdon'tpanic._

He was clad in ebony and ivory, simple and elegant: a long black frock coat, every inch patterned with thick black embroidery; cuffs turned back to reveal ivory lace spilling over his hands; a creamy shirt left half undone to display his silver-gold pendant; black breeches so tight that they could have been poured on; tall black boots, low-heeled, leather butter-smooth. His cornsilk hair shone like a crown and the stark spare angles of his face gave him a cold appeal that eluded the other men in the room. _The boys_, as Jessamyn had said, old but never this old.

All of this, in and of itself, was enough to turn a normal female into jelly. Sarah was by no means a normal female, but she had an added burden to bear: her most recent memories of this man were of her body entangled with his, skin sliding over skin and hands cupping various parts of each others' anatomies.

_That_, as Jareth neared them, was distracting.

And then he stopped in front of her. Jade-colored eyes met an oddly-matched pair and an unnamed something passed between them. Acknowledgment, perhaps.

"Miss Williams," he purred, addressing her with hooded eyes and a lazy voice. "How lovely to see you again."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: I"M SORRY YES ITS A CLIFFHANGER. THE REST WILL BE UP THIS WEEKEND. Thanks to **Isovexed, Bluegirl2751, angelwingz202, GoldenUsagi, efi, Labellily, Solea, draegon-fire, Second Star to the Right, Midnight Lady, Cariah Delonne, Lyn, Innogen, Moonjava, Acantha Mardivey, Cyber Keiko, Megdalina, Velf, Eleanora Rose, Robyn Maddison, Anyana, Anon, Lady Ione Athene, Celestis, Jazzy021, Bex Drake, Shadow, Caged Bird, Amora-Ryuko, Akai, Dragon of Sesshomaru, Dark Severus **and **Eskimointheigloo **for reviewing. Hey, Shadow, I took a glance at your webcomic and found a Jareth! (It was cute and cool. Also, hurrah for Snape/Hermione shippers!


	20. What in the World

Chapter Twenty: What in the World

_"Miss Williams," he purred, addressing her with hooded eyes and a lazy voice. "How lovely to see you again."_

The words would seem innocuous to her cousins, but Sarah heard the thread of irony in them. Somehow he was bending to kiss the back of her hand, just the lightest touch of lips. Sarah swallowed heavily and tried to will her nerve endings into compliance.

"Your Majesty," she managed to squeeze out, breath heavy and heart twisting uncomfortably. "What a surprise."

_Or not._

"I do hope I'm not interrupting your conversation," he said lightly, not sounding apologetic in the least. He favored the other girls with an uninterested glance before returning his attention to Sarah. _He_ could afford to be rude. "Would you care to dance, Miss Williams?"

Sarah could have sworn she heard Callista whimper and Jessamyn grit her teeth. Moira kicked her discreetly in the skirts, hitting her ankle.

"Certainly," Sarah replied belatedly, taking Jareth's proffered hand. She couldn't refuse, she didn't really _want_ to refuse, but words and thoughts and emotions were beating against her skull like caged birds. _Is this a good idea? Is he angry? Of course he's angry... that's not a point of discussion. What am I supposed to _say

He swept her into the dancing masses; his hand was resting at her waist and his torso was maddeningly close to her own. Very close, too close, she wasn't thinking coherently anymore...

Jareth bent towards her and spoke in a low voice with an odd smile on his lips.

"_Do_ call me 'your majesty' again, Sarah; I find it quite appealing."

"Not likely," she said automatically. His expression was beginning to creep her out. It looked pleasant enough, but his eyes had a slightly manic gleam to them and his grip on her was very tight. His real feelings were lurking under the friendly mask. They didn't appear to be happy.

"We are going to lose ourselves in the crowd, where your companions—Jeremiel's nieces, correct?—cannot see us. We will move toward the doorway outside. See the drapes? Just follow my lead."

Sarah looked at Jareth's face, to the tall rectangle of darkness that led outdoors, and back at Jareth.

_Alright, time for a panic attack. Whoops, too late, already having one. Lost your nerve, Sarah, huh? Where'd it go? You could always stand up to him before._

They stepped in time with the waltz that was playing, swaying in the three beats. They crossed the ballroom with surprising speed. Jareth didn't speak again, but he kept his eyes firmly on hers. Sarah couldn't bring herself to break the gaze. She was hardly conscious of where she was putting her feet.

Eventually, she felt a cool breeze riffle across her skin; the door. Jareth nonchalantly swept them through the opening and onto the windy, deserted balcony outside. He pulled her a few steps from the door, dropping his hand from her waist. For a moment, Sarah relaxed, hoping that he was going to be civilized about their situation.

Then he slammed her against the cold stone palace walls, pressing her back against the rock and caging her in with an arm on both sides. Before she had time to register what had happened, his mouth was covering hers in a fierce, violent, possessive kiss. As surprised as she was, she responded instinctively, pushing her lips against his with equal force. The gap between their bodies disappeared.

Jareth drew away after an interminable period of time, leaving his face hovering a few inches away from hers. His arms kept her pinned in place, but his eyes were calmer now. Sarah licked her swollen lips and took in a deep, quiet breath.

"You have been a _very_ bad girl," he murmured silkily. Sarah stifled a shiver and met his eyes defiantly.

"I figured out how to leave the Labyrinth on my own, didn't I? I think those were the terms of our agreement."

"Sarah, Sarah, never lost for words." There was amusement in his face now, but there was something darker as well. When had their animosity turned so... personal?

"I wouldn't say 'never'," she hedged, dropping her eyes to his chest. His skin was milky pale in the moonlight. "Sometimes I have no idea what to say."

"Indeed." He shifted, bringing a hand around to tilt her chin back up. His eyes were unreadable. "How do you plan on getting yourself out of this dilemma, my lovely?"

For a wild moment Sarah wasn't sure what he was talking about—_their_ dilemma, or the one that was waiting for her inside the ballroom. _I don't want to get out of this_, Sarah thought, staring at him. But then she realized that he was speaking of her impending betrothal.

"I have an idea," she said quickly. "You'll see."

"Of course you do." He snorted. "My friend your step-father asked for my assistance in the matter."

"He said as much. You refused."

"I did. He thought that I was just being vindictive."

Sarah smiled a tiny humorless smile. "He told me that you're just as bad as I am, sometimes."

"'Just as bad'? Worse, I hope." This opinion seemed to amuse him. "No, I want to see you deal with this on your own. I'm sure that it will extremely entertaining."

"Entertaining, am I?" she muttered. _Typical_. "Thanks a l—hey!"

Sarah twitched away as he ran his thumb across the neckline of her gown, brushing skin.

"I rather like this," he said, looking down.

"Keep your hands to yourself, why don't you?" She felt as though she should be angry with him—she was always angry at him for something. But at the moment, she wasn't. It was disorienting.

"I think it's too late for that. Do you like the gown?"

"It's beautiful, but I'm not sure I trust your reasons for giving it."

"I can't have you disgracing me by wearing whatever rag the Daras provide for you," he said arrogantly, tone aided by his elegant accent. Sarah raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the hand that was stroking her neck.

"What do my clothes have to do with you?" she asked. Jareth narrowed his eyes.

"You belong to me. A fact you'd do well to remember. I wouldn't try running away again." He seemed completely serious, which was a more than a little chilling. "Now, Sarah, the thirteenth hour draws near. Don't keep the good Lady Dara waiting." He placed a light kiss on her jawline before taking a couple steps back. "I'll be watching."

He left. Sarah remained, leaning against the stone wall. She looked up at the sky and sighed.

_So I maybe I like him. Don't trust him at all, but I like him. Where does that leave me?_

Sarah pushed away from the wall and patted her hair lightly. _Still in place._ The air of the ballroom seemed hot and thick when she stepped back inside, almost suffocating. She threaded her way across the expanse of floor, hoping that her cousins would still be where she had left them. _How long ago was that? Hours, days, minutes?_

There they were, Callista in blue and Moira in green and Jessamyn in burgundy. Gabriel had joined them, as well as Angharad and Aunt Rhoslyn. The six of them watched her as she approached. Sarah winced inwardly. This didn't look good.

"My dear Sarah," started Angharad frostily. "Have you no understanding of subtlety whatsoever?"

_That_ was completely unexpected.

"Excuse me?" asked Sarah blankly.

"One does _not_ except gifts—_expensive_ gifts—without knowing from whence they came. Moreover, one does _not_ wear them to Court functions for all to see. Have you lost your wits?"

"I'm not following you."

"My girl. I have worked extremely hard to arrange a marriage for you in a minuscule amount of time. And it is an excellent match: the nephew of the king himself, albeit a young one! You should be grateful. You should _not_ be flaunting strangers' gifts in front of your betrothed's family. What if they are offended? What then?" Angharad glared at Sarah reproachfully, a surprisingly effective glare from such a tiny woman.

"I don't really see the problem here," Sarah said, irritated. "No one knows who it's from, or even that it's a gift."

"Thank the very heavens," responded Angharad quickly. "We shall hope not. What could a person have been thinking, to send such a thing to an attached young woman? But no matter." She calmed down a little bit, resembling a sparrow settling its ruffled plumage. "My granddaughters tell me that you accepted a dance from the Goblin King."

"Yes..." Sarah confirmed slowly. Angharad looked pleased. Jessamyn looked like she wanted to fling acid in Sarah's face.

"Well. Very good. A very great compliment to our family, to be acknowledged so. To _you_ especially, being newly arrived at court. Young Jeremiel is a particular friend of his, you know—yes, you remember that he came to Jeremiel's wedding party, of course. He is a very high figure in the Underground. Very high. I hope that you gave him all due respect?"

Callista looked at Sarah worriedly after this remark; Sarah bit back a grin. She remembered her words earlier in the evening:_ we didn't really like each other. I guess I was kind of rude._

"Of course," she said innocently. Gabriel, standing next to Callista, caught Sarah's eye. There was a knowing look on his face.

_Could he have figured it out? _The idea was a little worrying, but she knew that Gabriel wouldn't interfere in her escape. He had implied as much that morning. _He may realize that Jareth is involved, but he wouldn't tell. _

Lady Dara was looking at the clock.

"It is almost time, children. Come—we must take our places."

_Almost time, almost time, almost time; the clock will soon strike thirteen. Don't freak out, Sarah. This is your chance._

They moved _en masse_ across the room, towards one wall where there was a dais set up. Two thrones sat upon it, wood gilded and set with precious stones. They were bright and shiny, but they looked like toys when compared to the millennia-old one that sat in the castle beyond the Goblin City. The giant clock hung overhead.

Angharad halted them on one side of the dais, where they were met by Tristam and Gwyneth, Owain and Maddox, Callistus Dara and Jeremy. Jeremy mouthed the words _I'm sorry_. Sarah patted him softly on the shoulder.

Other groups of people moved toward the dais, standing in front of it on the left or on the right. A long aisle formed in the middle. Sarah saw Setekh standing with a contingent of dark people in robes; next to them was a clan of people with brilliantly teal hair, reminding Sarah of the boy she helped in the Labyrinth. The other ambassadors' families were easy to pick out: most of them were different in some way, either their coloring or height or something strange about their features. The majority of people were just normal Shining Ones, beautiful humanoids with an unearthly clarity to their skin and eyes and hair.

A tall muscular man, richly dressed, strode forward to sit on one throne. A statuesque woman walked beside him, red-gold hair piled on top of her head and woven through a crown. The man wore a simple circlet.

Everyone bowed when they passed, except for one—Sarah looked away and saw Jareth standing upright by himself. He was watching her.

When the king and queen had taken their places on the thrones, Sarah looked up to watch the clock. The elaborate hands marched closer and closer to their goal, until all three of them were aligned at the top. Thirteen.

_Dong._ The sound was deep and stately, thrumming through Sarah's stomach. _Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. _

_Dong._

The clock had struck thirteen.

"Welcome, my subjects and my companions," began the king, voice resonant with some spell. "Once again we meet together, dance together, on the top of our kingdom under the light of the full moon. May our actions here be blessed under Her purifying light."

The words had a slow cadence to them, as if this were a speech given every year. A benediction. Sarah could imagine this shining throng gathering every year, for the past few centuries, to stand in front of their sovereigns.

"May we present our gains, our losses, and our bindings as the first of our dealings together. May we bear witness to the joys and the sadnesses of our fellows."

The king leaned back and a woman—an old woman, hair gray and dress shining white—took a place on the dais, in front of the royals and facing the nobility. A rolled parchment was held in her hands, which she unfurled and grandly held in front of her.

"Greet the newest of our number," she said in a beautifully rich voice, before beginning a litany of the children who had been born since the last Court session had ended. The list was surprisingly short. Sarah bit her lower lip nervously as the woman spoke.

She began on the betrothals. This list was slightly longer. Sarah listened with bated breath, her heart thumping so loudly in her chest that she could hardly think. The speaker droned on, and on, until...

"Lir Astrophel Albin Ingimarr Haldor of House Haldor to Sarah Elaine Williams Dara of House Dara..."

Sarah stepped forward, into the empty space just before the dais; no one thought to stop her. No one had expected her to move.

"I protest this," Sarah called in her loudest voice, voice clear despite the slight trembling in her limbs.

The respectful quiet was broken with a quiet gasp, followed by a stunned silence. The speaker on the dais looked down.

"On what grounds?" she annunciated, looking dubious. Sarah heard angry murmuring from behind her, where the Daras were standing. She refused to be distracted.

"My betrothal was contracted by House Dara. It is not binding; for I am not a member of that House and my consent was not given."

Angharad had stepped out of the throng to grab her, face absolutely furious, but the king chose that moment to speak out.

"Stand away, Your Excellency. I am interested to hear the girl speak." His expression was amused and disbelieving. "So this is the girl from the Aboveground. Continue, human girl."

Sarah had the feeling that this was meant as an insult, since she was generally known not to be human. She raised her chin imperiously, anger making her stand tall.

"Human girl? I am not, your Majesty, which I believe is part of the problem. There has been a severe misunderstanding."

"The misunderstanding is on your part," said the woman holding the scroll. "Your mother was married by Jeremiel Dara, if my records are correct. The connection to House Dara is obvious."

"I do not enjoy the condescension in your voice, madam," Sarah said stiffly. The crowd's murmuring grew. "My complaint is entirely reasonable. I do not belong to House Dara. I am not human, nor am I one of the so-called Shining Ones. Moreover, there is a previous claim on me that supersedes my mother's marriage to Jeremiel Dara."

The room exploded into conversation. The woman with the scroll waved her arms to procure quiet; the king stood up and frowned. The noise subsided.

"What proof do you have of this, girl? Without the insolence, mind you." His incredulity was obvious. Sarah looked back at him haughtily.

"My allegiance is to the Labyrinth."

Gunnar stared at her for a long second before bursting into hearty chortles. The rest of the court tittered softly, following his lead and reminding Sarah of nothing so much as the goblins brainlessly mimicking Jareth. She scowled.

"If I had known that you were a madwoman, child, I would not have allowed my nephew to be bound to you. However, this is a delusion easily destroyed. Jareth—where are you? Come, disillusion the girl so we may return to our ball." The king's eyes fixed to a spot in the distance; Sarah turned, along with everyone else, to look at the Goblin King slouched arrogantly along the aisle. He regarded the king coolly.

"What would you have me do, Gunnar?" he asked, addressing the king familiarly. He sounded utterly unimpressed with Gunnar's showiness.

"Tell Mistress _Williams _that she is egregiously mistaken."

"I will not." He refused Gunnar's request evenly. "Sarah is quite capable of speaking for herself. Indeed, she insists on it." He looked at Sarah when he said that last part, favoring her with a slight smile full of mirth. Sarah nodded at him in acknowledgment.

The humor slowly drained from Gunnar's face.

"This is quite enough!" screeched a female voice; Sarah spun around and was treated to the sight of Angharad Dara in a towering rage. "You ungrateful brat! We adopted you with nothing but kindness in our hearts, and you repay us with this farce! Stand down immediately!" Her eyes traveled to Jareth. "Sir. You may find it amusing to humor this child, but I ask that you stop toying with her. This _eruption _has gone on long enough."

"Do not presume to ask me anything, little one," he replied icily. Sarah looked between his insulted face and Angharad's outraged one. _Uh-oh,_she thought. _I need to get this over with before somebody gets hurt. As much as I would enjoy seeing dear Grandmother get her just desserts..._

"I have proof," Sarah said loudly, before anyone else could speak. King Gunnar shifted in his seat and crossed his arms, looking harried.

"Do you?" he growled. "It better be good. You have exactly one minute before I have you forcibly removed from this gathering. Angharad, please shut up. Jareth, with all due respect, please don't curse any of my guests until after the party is over."

"Assuredly," Jareth murmured, sending Lady Dara his best predatory stare. Sarah sighed loudly, irritated by his interruptions. She had wanted to do this herself.

"Watch," she said, calmly, to Gunnar. She stretched her right arm out in front of her, palm turned to face upwards—the lace on her sleeves tickled her skin as she shifted. She bit her bottom lip, concentrating. This was not the time to screw up.

A crystal, bright and ever-so-slightly glowing, popped into existence on her hand. The front rows of people gasped slightly and Gunnar suddenly leaned forward in his chair. Sarah swallowed quickly.

A swift movement of her wrist caused the crystal to go flying upward in a glittering line, catching the attention of the guests who hadn't seen it before. Sarah kept her eyes glued to the object; when it reached the apex of its flight, she directed every fiber of her will toward it. _Turn._

Instead of disappearing mildly, the crystal popped with a burst of sparkling light, leaving her gold-and-silver-pendant falling back down to her hand. Sarah caught it gently, the thin chain wrapping around her wrist as it landed. Sarah untangled it and pulled it over her head; the pendant slid down and nestled itself over the curve of her breasts, in plain sight for all to see.

Gunnar was on his feet and the crowd was jabbering at the top of its lungs. Sarah blinked, slightly shaken, and stared up at the Idunni king steadily. _Let this be the right thing to do_, her mind whispered, _let this set me free. Give me power; don't let someone else have power over me._

"This..." said Gunnar, voice trailing off. His eyes moved to a point behind her. "This is unexpected. Is this a truth or a declaration of intent?"

Jareth's voice sounded from directly behind her; Sarah stifled a twitch, not realizing that he had moved. He stood close, very close, but he did not touch her. Sarah breathed in deeply, relieved and somehow touched. He was letting her stand on her own—she needed this.

"That depends on Sarah."

Sarah didn't understand.

"Does it now," murmured Gunnar. "Does it." He spoke louder, for the benefit of their audience. "Well, the emblem is clear, and the significance is undeniable. The Daras have no claim."

Sarah smiled, despite the burst of indignation from the Dara delegation. Gunnar shook his head disbelievingly; he seemed bewildered, bemused, but not exactly angry.

"I do not know who or what you are," he said to her, voice pitched for Sarah's ears only. "But I daresay that my kingdom is better off without you. Anyone who can wrest respect from the Goblin King would be more trouble than they're worth." He muttered something under his breath that might have been _always preferred more docile women, myself. _"I never thought to see a queen in the Labyrinth, but I know when to keep my mouth shut."

_Oh, shit_, thought Sarah, suddenly alarmed. _What did I just declare? Please tell me that I have not just walked into Jareth's trap. Oh, crap._

"I think this is the perfect time for a graceful exit, don't you?" Jareth said into her ear. Sarah spun around to face him, wanting to start berating him right that moment, but common sense stopped her. She glanced over at the Daras out of the corner of her eyes; Callista was big-eyed, Gabriel was doubled over laughing, and Jeremy looked totally mind-blasted. All the others were in some stage of spluttering disbelief and anger.

"I suppose so," she replied reluctantly. _Probably we should get out before Angharad lapses out of her stupor._ "Fine."

"Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm. Sarah looked at it distrustfully.

"Where are we going?"

"Home, of course."

"If you mean the Labyrinth, no. I need to return Aboveground. We need to talk."

"You're feeling cocky, aren't you?" he asked coolly. "Do you think you have a choice?"

"Yes, I do. We don't have time for bullshit. Just take me to the park near my house, alright? I feel certain that you know where it is. We _need to talk_. After that, anything is possible. " She met his eyes levelly, trying to impart how serious she was. He looked like he wanted to argue.

"Fine, you bloody harridan," he growled. Sarah threaded her arm through his primly, raising her eyebrows at him. He shut his eyes, exasperation and amusement warring for dominance on his face, and breathed in deeply. Sarah got the feeling that he was counting to ten.

"Many thanks," he said sardonically. He nodded genially to King Gunnar and pulled Sarah a step forward. "Here we go."

And they went, leaving Idunn far behind them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: And there you go. I expect one more chapter, or perhaps a chapter and a short epilogue; regardless, the next chapter will be a biggie where Jareth and Sarah try to hash out their mess of a relationship. (And just where did all this queen stuff come from?) Then the story will be done. A big _merci _to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, even the ones who were screaming incomprehensibly at me (lol). **Calendar, Akai, GoldenUsagi, Eleanora Rose, Innogen, Dark Avalon, Second Star to the Right, Labellily, Acantha Mardivey, Isovexed, Secret Heart, Velf, angelwingz202, tellergirl, Solra, Kathleen, Fei4, **and **Fuzzy. **Thank you for your tolerance and good humor. I love and adore you.


	21. Give Me One Reason

Chapter Twenty-One: Give Me One Reason

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief when her feet touched down on the shadowed grass under her oak tree. The rest of the park spread out around her, dark and gently moonlit. To others, the empty expanse might have seemed eerie. Sarah, though—well, she was getting used to popping in and out of the place at night. It was fey but comfortably familiar; a fit transition between the Aboveground and the wilder Underground.

The girl carefully disengaged herself from the Goblin King and drew back from him, just a few paces. They watched each other, gazes measured.

_Perhaps we are both wary of the dangers of speaking our minds._

"I did not argue with you because we needed to leave Idunn," Jareth began gravely. "But now that we've left—we _are_ returning to the Labyrinth."

"No," Sarah replied simply.

"Take my hand."

"No. We need to talk and I'd like to talk here. You can force me to leave, I suppose, but I will _not_ make it pleasant for you."

Jareth growled low in his throat, a sound of intense frustration, but he didn't move. They remained in their places, illuminated by the moon's glow; Sarah's dress shimmered and Jareth's pale skin and hair became luminous. Slowly, Sarah remembered something.

"Oh. You can't take me by force, can you? You still need my consent to take me anywhere, don't you? The 'no power' clause still applies."

Her companion flinched and glared at her, fuming but still silent. It was true—his hands were tied.

"What might we discuss here that we could not discuss in a more comfortable location?" Jareth finally asked, voice tight with controlled resentment.

"It's not the topic that would be different," Sarah replied frankly. "It's the manner in which the conversation would be conducted."

"_Do_ tell."

"This is neutral ground. I'm not stepping foot in the Goblin Kingdom until some things are clearly defined."

Jareth raised his upturned eyebrows, the markings underneath them glittering in the half-light. He folded his arms with studied calm, containing none of the jerkiness of anger.

"Have at it, then," he said. "And do hurry—I'd rather not be standing in a damp field all night."

Sarah didn't quite buy his nonchalance; realizing this, she was bemused by the fact that she could read him so well. She almost smiled. The one thing that Jareth valued more than his fury was his dignity. He wasn't going to rage against her when there was nothing he could do; that would reveal weakness, and that would never do.

"What's this?" she said abruptly, holding the pendant of her necklace toward him, its horns between her thumb and forefinger.

"A piece of worked metal," he replied laconically. Sarah ground her teeth—so this would be his revenge for her recalcitrance. _This, _she decided_, will take awhile_.

"Don't lie to me," she spoke. Relatively calmly. Jareth shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"I'm not lying," he insisted, sounding vaguely offended. "It is plain metal, no different from that you would find in the jewelry of your own world. Unlike my own pendant, it contains no magical properties, no powers allowing control over the Labyrinth. It is a necklace, nothing more."

"It _is_ more." Sarah plowed onward, eyes narrowing. "A simple necklace wouldn't save me from anything. Why, when Gunnar saw it, did he react the way he did? What brought the word _queen_ into the discussion?"

A pause. Jareth looked like he wanted to laugh, but Sarah's ferocious countenance stopped him.

"Ah. That. I suppose that the particular form of the pendant may be rather symbolic."

"_Rather_ symbolic?"

"As I said. Try not to repeat me, Sarah." Yes, one corner of his mouth definitely twitched. He so loved to torment her. "I am a king, but I do not wear a crown as other rulers do. My pendant is generally seen as my emblem of office. Thus, if you wear a similar object..." He smiled. "You understand."

Sarah stared at him incredulously. He looked back at her mildly.

"Alright. Okay. This is the problem." She took a deep, quieting breath. "No matter what you might think, this is not just a piece of metal. Why did you give this thing, this symbol, to me? Please. Tell me."

"You are confusing the object with the reality behind it," Jareth said, his humor fading into something drier. "I gave the necklace to you because it is an outward sign of something not immediately visible. It was meant to protect you from those who mean you harm."

"_What _reality?" Sarah cried, exasperated. "Are you saying that I am actually the Queen of the fucking Goblins?"

"Well," he said, looking down and idly inspecting his fingernails, "Not just the fucking goblins. I should think that the others would go along with the fucking ones. If you like."

He turned his pale eyes toward her, now completely solemn, watching her with their distorted pupils. Something shifted behind them.

"You cannot change what you are, not now. Refusing the symbol—or accepting it—will make no difference."

"Is this just another trick?" Sarah whispered, head tilted up to return his gaze. "Another way to lure me back? Because I won't go, not until I'm certain of myself. And you can't force me. You have no power over me."

Jareth didn't flinch this time.

"There are many kinds of power," he said quietly. A breeze stirred his thistledown hair, blowing strands across his face and around his shoulders. "But perhaps not." He laughed bitterly. "No, I can't force you. Thrice-rejected am I—your answer is clear."

"No!" she exclaimed, something like alarm in her voice. "I'm not... rejecting. Not now."

"Then what was it, then?"

"I need clarification. I need to know what I'm doing. What you're doing. Why you're doing this."

"Doing what?" he enunciated clearly, voice devoid of emotion.

"Why would I be a queen? Why did you teach me, why did you call me in my dreams? Why did you give me magic in the first place?" Her voice rose, becoming more and more agitated. Desperate, even—the weight of all her doubts and questions poured from her in a torrent. "Why did you ever _care_?"

"I don't know," he replied softly.

"Yes, you do know!" Sarah yelled. "No one does all of this on a whim, not even you!"

Silence.

"Do you love me?" she asked, barely audible, barely daring to say it. Wanting to know, not knowing why.

"...love?" The Goblin King spoke the word carefully, the way that a person would pronounce a foreign phrase. As if it were unfamiliar. "Has love ever had anything to our predicament?"

"I don't know," she admitted in her turn, still quiet.

_Please, _she thought.

"I knew you before you wished your brother away," Jareth mused, an apparent _non sequitur_. Sarah didn't dare interrupt. "I heard you speak my name in the world Above and, curious, I came to see. You were a spoiled child, an angry child, and foolhardy in the Labyrinth." He paused, face unreadable. "But promising. You were almost grown. What are a few years to me? I thought you might make a pretty plaything, but then you broke free of the dream."

_Goblin masks and figures twirling, clock on the wall and the great weight of her hair piled on her head, disoriented and confused and the people were laughing..._

"It was a trap."

"Of course it was a trap. You stumbled into every trap in your path—and then you found your way out of each of them." He shook his head. "I suppose that I was intrigued. I _was_ intrigued. And then, at the end of everything, you resisted still. You'd never done that before."

"Before?" mouthed Sarah, forehead creasing. "What do you mean, I'd never..?"

Jareth smiled thinly.

"Isn't that the story? You, at first, were every pale-faced and dark-haired girl that had ever invoked me, every dreamer lost in herself. I'd seen you hundreds of times, thousands of times, over the years. To the Shining Ones and the other fae, I am a bogeyman—but, mostly to humans, I am remembered as a dream. You were just the Girl, a facet of the Girl named Sarah. And then..."

When his voice halted, Sarah held her breath.

"You solved a puzzle that I didn't even know existed. The Fae simply win their siblings when they find my castle. You found the castle, you made a leap of faith to save your brother, and then you landed in the ruins of a nightmare-room. You confronted me, spoke those words, and completed a ritual. And somehow became an equal. Not the Girl, but something... unique."

The Goblin King, the king himself, looked away then, casting his eyes to the side. Sarah felt herself drawn closer, closer, floating in a cloud of silver silk.

"Why, then , the magic?" she coaxed softly, feeling an odd power infuse her in the wake of Jareth's reticence.

"I..."

She froze.

"I needed to make sure you came back."

"Why?"

"Revenge. A need to assert my will. Longing. Curiosity. Boredom. Desire. All these things and none of them."

"Then that's hardly an answer." Her hands placed themselves flat on his chest, resting lightly on either side of his pendant. They rose and fell with his breath.

"Even I, after millennia of existence, find things hidden to me."

This was new—the Goblin King, familiar and strange at the same time, acidity and amusement stripped away to reveal the plain truth. He retained an odd _gravitas_ despite this admission of fallibility, thoughtful and unembarrassed, still and cold and beautiful.

"Do you love me?" she asked again, voice a whisper, hands circling around him under his coat. She wanted—_needed—_to know. He let out a shuddering sigh.

"I have read of love, heard people speak of it. But I do not know what love is."

The world had narrowed to the two of them standing beneath the black sky and the rustling oak leaves. The night leeched color from the land, leaving only subtle gradations of gray.

"I want to run my fingers through the length of your hair and lay kisses down the length of your throat," he said idly. "I want to wrap my arms around your waist and I want to feel you shiver when I murmur into your ear. I want to watch you lick your lips when you're thinking though a problem, and I want to hear you ask annoying question about magic when I don't want to be bothered. I want to fuck you until you are incapable of speech. I want you to sleep beside me with your body curled around mine. I want to drape you in diamonds and nothing else. I want to teach you all the magic you need or want to know, so you can face the Underground someday at the height of your power—so you can show those pretentious court lap dogs that you are not to be toyed with.

"I find that the days are less dull when you are around to cause trouble. I find, I think, that I do not want you to leave again.

"Perhaps this is love. I do not know."

The world stopped breathing.

To Sarah, there was utter silence; the sound of the crickets, if they still chirped, did not reach her ears, nor did the creaking of the tree behind her. She could neither move nor speak; she simply stared with prickling eyes.

_This is our battle. Toby, everything else, was merely window dressing. At the heart of everything lies this._

_Who has won?_

He laughed a bitter little laugh, heavy with self-mocking.

"And so I am felled by a snip of a girl. How demeaning."

_Who has won?_

"Let's call it a truce, shall we?" Sarah replied in a faltering tone. She pressed her face against his chest, finding her legs rather shaky. Her arms tightened around his waist and his rose to wrap around her own. They stood there, unspeaking, because neither could think of what to say.

_And where does this leave us?_

Toby, Karen, her father, Linda, Dinah and Aaron and Benjamin. Graduation, summer vacation, college. All she loved, all she had looked forward to, was arrayed in her mind against the Underground—_Hoggle and Ludo and Sir Didymus, Addie Otherwood and Daedalus, Antonius and Benedict and Plassa, Lord Fellmarch and the leader of the trolls, Pidgin. Callista and Gabriel. _

_Jareth._

"I can't simply abandon the Aboveground," Sarah commented finally, voice muffled. Jareth gripped her tighter, an almost imperceptible change. She lifted her face away from his skin.

"I'm not going to let you go," he told her matter-of-factly, in the same tone that one would say _the sun feels nice today_ or _I'm hungry._ He seemed to mean it literally—he was actually refusing to release her from his grasp.

"I never said I wanted you to!" Sarah exclaimed, suddenly angry again. "Does everything between us have to be a power struggle?"

"Would you want it any other way?"

Sarah was, by nature, blunt. And she was tired of his answering-questions-with-questions bullshit.

"Look," she replied. "I can't just leave everything that I have here. My mother did that to me, and I'm still messed up because of it. On the other hand, if I just told you to go to hell and leave me alone, then I'd be miserable for the rest of my life. I don't know why—it's probably unhealthy, whatever the reason—but it's the truth." Her voice grew steadily in volume again. "You're an unmitigated bastard and God knows that I can't stand you, but you're a sexy unmitigated bastard and you're _my _sexy unmitigated bastard. Okay?"

A pause.

"I'm flattered," said Jareth, voice arid. Sarah stifled a hysterical giggle.

"Why do I have to make a choice between the Aboveground and Underground?" asked Sarah, plowing on with her tirade despite a rising desire to just stand there with her face buried in his coat. "I mean, there's more overlap than I ever realized before. Jeremy lives in New York, and Callista reads Douglas Adams books and Gabriel obviously spends time up here—he owns a pair of jeans for Christ's sake. Why does it have to be so final, one way or another?"

"What are you proposing?" he asked, countenance skeptical.

"I don't know! I'll live up here, sneak off in my spare time, something. It'll be easier after I go to college, I won't have dad and Karen looking over my shoulder all the time..." Sarah halted and sighed. "This is ridiculous."

"I do not think that I approve of this idea," Jareth said evenly. "Of you living Aboveground. I think that is quite in opposition to my plans."

"Deal with it. This is the way things are, your Majesty. This is what equality means. I don't have to comply with your plans. So we'll have to... compromise."

"_Compromise._" His tone was absolutely dripping with contempt, as if the one word disgusted him beyond all other things. Considering Jareth, it probably did.

"Yep." Sarah raised her eyebrows. "What'll it be?"

Jareth's jaw tightened and his mouth narrowed, eyes growing hooded. He leveled this expression at her for several moments, but Sarah remained steadfast.

"Compromise," he repeated, this time rolling the word off of his tongue, playing with the syllables. Still thoughtful, musing. "Compromise—that means, I think, that we both make concessions in order to reach a mutually agreeable proposal?"

"Yes," Sarah replied, hesitant.

"I do not think that you are making any concessions."

"Your point?"

"_If_ I agree to this idea—and this is an 'if', mind you—I think that I deserve to be compensated during those times in which you are present in the Labyrinth."

He smiled at her very delicately, revealing his slightly pointed teeth.

"What do you have in mind?" Sarah inquired, despite having a pretty good idea of what he was implying.

"Well, just off the top of my head, I would say gratuitous amounts of sex."

"Er." Sarah's mouth went dry and something low in her stomach lurched. "I think I could agree to that."

_Damn straight I could agree to that._

"Deal, then?" he asked.

"One more thing."

Jareth was starting to look ticked off again. Sarah spoke quickly.

"Just a little thing—Gabriel told me that someone had bespelled my family so that they wouldn't notice my absence. Could you, um, fix them? Or at least tell me how?"

He muttered something low under his breath and pulled away from her a few steps, holding out his hand. Sarah looked at it distrustfully.

"We are going to your house," he told her. "Do try to rein in your paranoia."

"Fine," she said defensively, taking his offered hand. "Sorry."

"Hmph," was his reply.

Then, without any fanfare, they were standing in the foyer of the Williams' old Victorian house. The transition was so abrupt that Sarah was knocked off balance out of sheer surprise.

All the lights were out; everyone was asleep. Much to Sarah's relief.

Jareth was already striding up the stairs, his boot-heels making emphatic _clops_ on each tread. Sarah rushed up after him in her quieter slippers, gathering her heavy skirts as well as she could manage.

"Quiet!" she hissed to him, as he began to click down the upstairs hallway. "You're going to wake them!"

_Which would be a nightmare of momentous proportions. _Sarah could imagine it now—Dad and Karen waking to find a thirty-something man standing in the corridor with their teenage daughter, both dressed in archaic finery. Karen would gasp and her Dad would go all accusatory and angry, and then Jareth would be Jareth and do something horrible...

"I should think not," Jareth replied, tone derisive and mildly offended. "I am better at this than that."

He continued down the hall, reaching the doors of the master bedroom. Sarah finally caught up with him as he nudged them open, slipping through the thin opening. Sarah hung back, watching him, unable to get through without opening them further. Karen and Robert Williams were fast asleep, Robert bare-chested with an arm thrown across the pillow. Karen had her head on his chest, face calm and relaxed. Neither one stirred.

Jareth surveyed them peremptorily before summoning a crystal in one hand. He tossed it toward them, where it hung overhead before dissolving into a soft shimmering rain. It fell upon the sleeping pair before dissolving. Robert shifted slightly, but did not wake.

Sarah didn't speak until they were both out in the hall again.

"So?" she asked.

"They won't be surprised when they awake and see you, but they won't wonder where you have been in the past few days either. You are safe."

"Thank you," Sarah said, honestly. Then she chuckled softly. "It seems like such a banal thing to worry about, after all I've been through. What could they do? Ground me?"

"One should never be quick to give up simplicity," Jareth commented idly. "Your parents don't need to know this." His gaze shifted, mouth twisting wryly. He nodded his head towards something behind Sarah.

"Sarah?" called a piping voice, sleepy but still clear. Sarah twirled around to find Toby standing outside of his bedroom door, wearing footie pajamas covered in primary-colored dinosaurs. Her old stuffed toy, Lancelot, was clutched in one of his hands.

He registered the presence of both the girl and the Goblin King without fear.

"Toby!" she whispered, alarmed and pleased in equal parts. "What are you doing up?"

"I heard a noise," he said petulantly. "Why do you have clothes like that?"

"We were at a party," Jareth supplied smoothly. "Sarah just came back to say good night to you."

"Oh." He adjusted his grasp on Lancelot. "Hello," he addressed to Jareth. "I know you."

"And I know you."

"You're funny."

Sarah's lips twitched. Jareth sent her a _don't-you-dare _sort of glare.

"Come 'ere, kid," Sarah told Toby, moving forward to scoop him up. He locked his arms around her neck, allowing her to carry him back into his room. Sarah plopped him back down on his bed.

"You should go back to sleep. Don't worry, I'll see you in the morning. 'k?"

"Okay."

"Goodnight." Sarah kissed him on the top of his head and helped him struggle back under the covers. "Don't mention this to Mom and Dad, alright?"

"I won't. Good night." He hugged her tight around the shoulders once before snuggling under his blankets. "Good night, Gob'in King," he called to Jareth. Sarah blinked and stared back down at her brother, but he had his eyes closed now. She shrugged and rose, more than a little surprised.

"He remembers you," Sarah told Jareth, outside of Toby's door. Jareth wasn't at all perturbed.

"I'm very memorable."

"Modest, too," Sarah mumbled. "You don't think he'll tell my parents, do you?"

"He hasn't yet," he replied disinterestedly. He studied Sarah for a moment. "I'm beginning to become impatient. Do we have a deal?"

Sarah pretended to think it over for a moment, just to be difficult. In reality, she'd pretty much made up her mind.

"I think so. Unless you piss me off. Then I retain the right to sleep alone."

"Naturally," Jareth said, tapping his foot, looking harried. "Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm.

"I think that it's a school night, you know..."

"Good gods, woman!"

Sarah decided that she probably shouldn't press him any farther. She was beginning to enjoy toying with him—maybe as much as he enjoyed toying with her. But he was still a lot more unpredictable than she was, so she'd take it easy for now.

Sarah took his arm.

"Let's go," she said simply.

They flickered out of existence in the Aboveground.

They materialized directly into Jareth's bedroom. Sarah smiled broadly, meeting Jareth's self-satisfied smirk.

_Perhaps, _Sarah thought as he began to helpfully assist her out of her clothes, _tomorrow will be strange. But I'll worry about tomorrow tomorrow. Right now, I'm going to enjoy this._

She eased his coat off his shoulders just after he finished unlacing her bodice. She slid her fingers under his shirt before he could begin working on her corset, feeling a profound sense of satisfaction when she revealed the smooth, marble-white surface underneath.

Tonight was going to be fun.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: And so goes the last full chapter. Jareth was amazingly hard to write, but I did my best to achieve Jarethness-tempered-with-actual-emotion. Hopefully I reached a good balance of power between our heroine and the Goblin King. Only an epilogue left, which will wrap things up.

Thanks to reviewers, and sorry if I miss anyone: **Acantha Mardivey, GoldenUsagi, Gwen, Innogen, Calendar, Kathleen, Shadow, Eleanora Rose, Midnight Lady, Gravidy, Dark Avalon, Isoveed, jazzy021, Amora-Ryuko, Velf, Tellergirl, Angelwingz202, Solea, Mej, Cyberquest1, Caged Bird, Dendy, Lady Ione Athene, Labellily, The Old Fart, Cariah Delonne, Fuzzy, Second Star to the Right, Moonjava, LadyLuck321, Cyber Keiko, Melody, Earthbrat, Draegon-Fire, Secret Heart, Angeloneous, Chibi Oniyuri, ItsACrystalNothingMore, Bex Drake, Lhiata, **and **Jumping-Jo.**


	22. Epilogue

Epilogue: The Places Where All Things Meet

Sarah Williams, still unused to sharing a bed after several weeks, was understandably startled when someone woke her by whispering into her ear.

"Hnnhh," she gasped, eyes flicking open and body flinching violently. Then her brain caught up with her body and she remembered where she was. Underground, Goblin City, bedchamber of the Goblin King, wrapped up in the sheets. Alone.

Jareth was smirking down at her, standing fully dressed next to the bed.

"Stop," she groaned. Her voice was rough and creaky from sleep. "What do you want?"

"Tch, testy in the morning, are you?"

"Why did you have to be a morning person?" Sarah asked plaintively, combing her tangled hair back with one hand. "I mean, for a man with an otherwise decadent lifestyle..."

"Who ever said I had to be consistent? I try to keep you guessing, my love."

"Great. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"I wouldn't suggest it." Jareth nodded his head to a mirror across the chamber, which was conveniently enchanted to show the view into Sarah's bedroom in the Aboveground. Cool golden light was pouring through the curtains, illuminating Sarah's neatly-made bed. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Sarah could feel the gears whirring in her head. She sat up and rubbed her eyes before the answer clicked.

"Graduation!" she exclaimed, aghast. "Oh, no. What time is it?" She leaped out from under the covers, not noticing or caring that she was stark naked. Reaching the mirror, she squinted at the surface. "Six... six-thirty? Thank god. Karen won't be pounding at the door quite yet."

Sarah spun around to address the Goblin King, who was leaning against the bedpost.

"Can you send me back now?"

"Can I? Undoubtedly. Do I want to..?" He leered at her half-heartedly, but there was more humor in it than anything. He was in a good mood this morning. Sarah, who once would have been embarrassed by the attention to her body, merely placed her hands on her hips and gave him her best reproving look.

"We had an agreement, Jareth," she reminded him.

"Can't it wait a few more minutes?" The expression on his face had changed, the humor morphing into something a little more intense. This time Sarah did feel a slight heat in her cheeks.

"A few more minutes?" she asked skeptically, smiling slightly. "That's all? Sorry, I'm not buying that one."

"Maybe if we hurried..."

"No!" Sarah said emphatically. "There's something really tacky about going to graduation... you know... in a state."

"Actually," he replied incredulously, "I really don't know. A _state_?"

"Don't bait me." Sarah's face was now bright red. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Your maidenly modesty never ceases to amuse me, Sarah."

"Yes, I'm a riot. Send me back now, will you?"

"Would you like to get dressed first?"

With an annoyed twist of her lips and a flick of her wrist, Sarah summoned a silky dressing gown to her hand. Slipping it on quickly, she raised an eyebrow at the Goblin King. He raised an eyebrow right back at her. He did it better.

"Go ahead, feel free to borrow my robe. I'm going to want it back, though."

"_Jareth!_"

She saw him make a quick gesture before they were both suddenly standing in her bedroom. The transition was always a little too abrupt for her liking, leaving her feeling disoriented. As soon as she got her bearings, though, she looked at Jareth pointedly again. He just smiled and sat down on her bed, leaning against her pillow and throwing his legs up onto the blanket. It was an odd but not entirely unpleasant tableau, giving her a moment's pause before she opened her mouth to chide him.

"Sarah!" called a voice from outside the door. Karen. "Are you up yet?"

Sarah clapped her hands over her mouth in horror, looking down at her barely-clad body and the Goblin King on her bed and then at the door. _I did lock it, I know I did, I better have_... yes, she had. She let out a huge breath. Jareth watched her panic with a fond expression, not moving from his comfortable position.

"Just about to go to the shower!" Sarah called back hurriedly. "Just a minute!"

"Don't rush yourself, you have plenty of time," replied Karen. "I'm making french toast for Toby. Do you want any?"

"Um, sure. That would be nice."

"How many pieces?"

"Two," Sarah said in a strangled voice as she watched Jareth stretch luxuriously on her bedspread. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Sarah didn't move until she heard Karen's feet on the stairway. Then she grabbed the pale dress hanging from the doorknob of her closet, ran over to her dresser to rifle around for clean underthings, and then walked calmly over to her bed. She glared down at its occupant.

"Do you think that your step-mother would make french toast for me too, if I asked her nicely?"

"No, she wouldn't. She would scream and then my dad would come and try to punch you. Then I would try to stop him and you would just stand there looking amused, and I'd say _Daddy, don't punch him, this is Jareth the Goblin King who I happen to be sleeping with most every night of the week_, and then he would go berserk and try to kill you and have a heart attack and die. And then Toby would grow up fatherless and join a gang, and Karen would start drinking and beating him, and they'd throw me out onto the streets, and I'd later kill myself from remorse."

Sarah's story, told without a pause for breath, seemed to entertain Jareth greatly.

"I'm almost tempted to try, just to see if all that would actually happen. What, exactly, is 'french toast'?"

"I'm going to get ready now. Don't you have any kingly business to be doing?"

"My kingly business, at the moment, is taking a nap. I didn't get much sleep last night—a certain nubile young lady of our mutual acquaintance was taking out her nerves on me." He settled farther back on the bed, closing his eyes pointedly.

"I am not nervous! Why would I be nervous?" Because she wasn't. Not really, at least. _I mean, one doesn't graduate from high school every day. Or go to graduation parties that include your bitterly divorced mother and father, their new spouses, _and_ the family of your ex-boyfriend. A little apprehension is to be expected. _

"Did you not say you were going to get ready now?"

"Don't mock me, you insufferable man." This was said with a half-smile to soften it.

"Ah, but you prefer me that way. Run along now."

So she did, still half-smiling, certain that Jareth would remain hidden despite his teasing. It was an odd feeling, to be on such good terms with him, but not at all an unpleasant one. He would never be an entirely comfortable man to live with, proud and capricious and tyrannical as he was, but that made him all the more fascinating.

_An altogether absurd situation_, she thought as she waited for the shower to warm up. _Crazy. Insane. Impossible. _She slid off the robe, folding it carefully and laying it as far from the shower spray as she could manage. _Half-unbelievable that I should have the Goblin King napping on top of my bed, though his present location is probably debatable. Even more unbelievable that I should be gelatinous with happiness. _She hated being a sap, so she tried to muffle the impulse as much as possible. It wasn't like she was floating around on a cloud of joy, but little things—taking god-awfully hard finals, babysitting Toby when she'd rather be reading or hanging out, sitting through math class—seemed far less onerous, because she had a secret to come home to at the end of the day. A good secret.

So if her mom and dad had a fistfight in the middle of graduation, well, she could handle it.

_Right._

Sarah stepped into the shower and promptly stuck her head under the spray, groaning. Alright, maybe she was nervous. No big deal. It would pass.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The borrowed bathrobe was gone when Sarah stepped out of the shower, and her bedroom was empty when she returned. She was equal parts relieved and disappointed—relieved because she never underestimated Jareth's ability to cause trouble, and disappointed... _well, I sort of like having him around._

"I am such an idiot," she told her reflection wryly, pausing in front of her vanity's mirror. She adjusted the sage green towel wrapped around her wet hair before letting one hand trail down to her collarbone. The young woman contemplated the pendant around her neck for a moment before undoing the clasp on the chain and tucking it down the front of her dress. It was a pretty thing, all glimmering gold and elegant curves, but she couldn't wear it openly. Not here.

She went downstairs to the kitchen, padding softly in her bare feet, her pale blue skirts frothing around her knees. Toby grinned at her from the table, a napkin tucked into his collar; Karen looked over from her station in front of the sink.

"Oh, Sarah, that looks wonderful. You are going to do something to your hair, aren't you?" Karen's tone was both admiring and solicitous, the combination of compliment and implied criticism that had driven Sarah crazy for years.

"Yes, Karen," she replied tolerantly, mouth quirking to one side. "I'll blow-dry it after breakfast."

"Oh, right, right," Karen added quickly, perhaps realizing what she was doing. Just as Sarah had learned to tolerate her stepmother, her stepmother had learned what bothered Sarah. "Of course. I put the plate over on the island, it should still be warm."

"Thanks." Sarah carried the plate over to the table, sliding in next to Toby. He was still in his pajamas, blond hair sticking up in cowlicks all over his head. He leaned over to Sarah's ear as she took her first bite.

"I have a secret message for you," he whispered into her ear. Sarah grunted and swallowed.

"Is it from Bumble Bear?" she asked, glancing at the ragged stuffed animal lying limply on the table next to her brother's plate.

"No."

"Lancelot, then? How is Lancelot doing lately, anyhow?"

"_No_," Toby whispered again, brow furrowed in annoyance. "He said, if you steal his robe again he'll put all your clothes in the bog and you'll have to go naked and that was a good idea and maybe he'd do it anyways and he'd see you later and don't trip or throw up and say hello to Jeremy and never mind he'd do it himself. And that's the end."

Sarah paused as she raised the fork to her mouth again.

"Sarah?"

She didn't move.

"Did you hear me?"

"... yes," she finally breathed, turning carefully to look into Toby's innocent blue eyes. "You remembered all that?"

"Course I did," he assured her proudly, leaning back away from her. He took a clumsy bite of of his breakfast, the syrup-soaked toast dripping all over his plate in sugary-sweet brown globs.

"When did... he... give you this message?"

"When I went upstairs to get Bumble Bear for breakfast." Toby lowered his voice even more, mischief dancing in his eyes. "He said he'd teach me a magic trick someday, if I was good."

"Hmm," was her reply. _I'm not sure how I feel about this. _"He doesn't scare you, does he?"

"Naw. He's neat."

"Hmm," she said again. She ate another bite of french toast, feeling bewildered. Toby wasn't afraid of his old kidnapper. Jareth promised to teach him a trick, which implied that Toby was capable of magic. A frightening thought--an eight-year-old Toby floating salamanders into girls' backpacks at school, or using it to start fires on Boy Scout camping trips. _Toby doing magic is way too scary to think about this morning. I have enough scariness on my plate already._

So Sarah let it go. She ate her breakfast and let Toby prattle on about other things.

Eventually it was time to leave; ten minutes later, Robert and Karen had dropped her off at the school cafeteria. Sarah regarded the milling ocean of blue-and-white clad students with trepidation.

And an hour after that, they all graduated. Considering the four years of work and the two hours of nervous energy before hand, it seemed almost anticlimactic.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Months before Graduation Day actually arrived, Sarah and her three closest friends had begun considering a thorny question: what to do afterwards? It's a problem that faces all graduating students, and they deal with it in a number of ways. Some go to school-sponsored events, some celebrate with their families, some go out to fancy restaurants, and some drive to the beach. Some sit in their basements and get plastered. After a great deal of thought, these particular students came up with a solution that fit them.

So bare minutes after flinging her cap into the air, Sarah found herself attending a semi-formal pizza party, her pale blue sun-dress floating around her like mist.

With four guests of honor, Dinah's family's restaurant was packed to bursting. Mostly with people that Sarah didn't recognize. Benjamin's family was fairly easy to pick out, given the polished-mahogany hue of their skin, but Dinah's relatives and Aaron's relatives blended into a huge mass of boisterous strangers. Sarah was doing her best to avoid Aaron's crowd. She and her ex-boyfriend were on semi-cordial grounds, but Sarah had the distinct feeling that Mr. and Mrs. Bouvier were still a little offended that she had dumped their beloved son.

"Hey, babe," commented a deep voice, somewhere above and behind Sarah. She turned around to find Ben towering over her, red tie askew and dress shirt untucked. He smiled at her kindly and unreservedly—unlike Dinah and Aaron, Ben had accepted her return to the Aboveground without comment.

Sarah had offered the simplest of possible explanations to her three friends: she told them Jeremy had talked Angharad Dara out of her harebrained plans. Dinah had questioned this in her usual outspoken manner, while Aaron maintained a disbelieving silence. She became aware of a chasm between them that hadn't existed before, or at least hadn't been so overt. Sarah hoped that it could still be breached. They were still friends, but the gap was unsettling.

A week or so ago, Sarah had asked Ben why he still treated her the same way. Ben had shrugged and smiled. _I always knew that you were different_, he had said. _Not quite this different, maybe, but I can deal with it. Dinah will come around. She's just a little high-strung._

High-strung was a good word for Dinah.

"Hey," Sarah replied, looking up at him.

"My niece tells me that she's going to marry your little brother," Ben told her, deadpan, nodding to a little girl with pigtails. A small flock of children had been herded into one corner, Toby and Ben's niece among them, with a couple of tolerant adults standing watch. "I'm not sure what that makes us."

"Howdy, Uncle Benjamin," Sarah said, suppressing a grin. "It'll be nice to have more family around."

"Weren't your mom and step-dad at the graduation ceremony?" he asked, suddenly looking guilty; no doubt he was worried that he had brought up a touchy topic.

"Yep." Sarah infused her reply with cheer in an attempt to reassure him. "Mom said they'd be coming to the party too. They'll be here in a bit."

_I hope._

Because she felt a little lonely here, with only three family members to contribute to the raucous crowd. Her father, an only child, had lost his parents years ago. Karen's parents lived across the country and were unwilling to travel so far for a step-granddaughter they barely knew. And Linda had been estranged from her own family since before Sarah was born.

"Well, feel free to borrow some of my folks," Ben said wryly. "I have more than I can deal with. I don't think Dinah would mind renting out a few, either; she's tired of getting her cheeks pinched."

"Really?" Sarah glanced through the crowd for a sight of her best friend, a real grin pulling at her face. "Literally, getting her cheeks pinched?"

"I am completely serious. Have you _seen_ her great-aunt? Beehive hair, thick glasses, about three feet wide? You wouldn't believe the cliché. And she called me a negro."

Sarah snickered involuntarily. She couldn't hold it back.

"Poor Dinah. Poor _you_. Maybe I'm better off without family—I'm not in danger of being smothered in three feet of great-aunt."

"Nah." Ben blinked rapidly and peered behind Sarah; one of his eyebrows quirked upward and a slow smile spread across his face. "No, you just have to worry about your boyfriends falling in love with your mom. I'm assuming the vision walking towards me is your mother?"

Sarah whirled around and saw two familiar faces pushing through the crowd—Linda and Jeremy, both looking far too posh for this bunch. She raised a hand to wave them over, making sure that the pair saw her. Benjamin began to edge away.

"Hey!" Sarah exclaimed, grabbing his sleeve. "Where are you going? You've been hearing so much about Mom and Jeremy, and now you're running off instead of saying hi?"

"You bet. Your mom has a definite 'Mrs. Robinson' vibe going on. I'm going to go kiss my girlfriend and ask if I can get her a drink."

"Coward."

"You bet. We'll catch up with you later."

Sarah turned her eyes toward her mother again as Benjamin fled. She and Jeremy had shifted, and Sarah could see two figures following behind Linda and her stepfather; one long and lanky and pale, the other shorter and plumper and darker. Her two rebel cousins. Gabriel managed to look as cool and disinterested as ever, hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks and tie hanging loose from his collar. Callista's face was merely uncertain. Gabriel seemed to be pushing her forward with a hand on her back.

Sarah grinned, surprised but pleased; at the same time, she felt her stomach twist with a sudden onslaught of stress. _Oh, god, Aaron and Ben and Dinah will recognize Gabriel. Need to warn them--no--introduce them on good terms, or something-- just find them before a fight breaks out--_

"Sarah, darling!"

She found herself enveloped in a pair of slim arms and a faintly scented cloud of perfume. Linda embraced Sarah for a long moment before pushing her back to arms-length. She offered her daughter a wide smile full of bright white teeth, followed by a flurry of words.

"I am so proud of you! Graduation already, I can't quite believe it! You'll go to college in the fall, and in a year you'll be the same age I was when I met your father, if you can imagine such a thing. So watch out for smooth talking young men... Oh, you were such an adorable baby, for all the noise you made... seems like just last week you were still wearing pigtails..." Her smile began to wilt a little bit around the edges; Sarah watched her mother blink a few times, like a sleeper waking, and a hint of an unfamiliar expression rose in the older woman's eyes.

"When did you grow up?" Linda asked, voice breathy. "I swear, I..."

And that might have been the closest that Linda had ever come to realizing that she had done something wrong when she walked out on Sarah. Sarah appreciated this, seeing her mother falter and bite her lower lip. And she let it go.

_Maybe I really am growing up, _she thought humorlessly as Linda re-plastered the smile onto her face.

"Watch me getting all weepy like that! Such a cliché, isn't it, the mother getting misty when her daughter graduates from high school? You know how I hate being clichéd. I better go get a drink before I disgrace myself further. I'll catch up with you later, dear. Jeremy, come find me when you're done with Sarah, will you? I don't feel quite up to making nice with Robert alone."

Linda strode off with her head held high, hips swinging, face determinedly cheerful and aloof. Sarah was astonished to find herself more amused than hurt.

"Your mother is one of a kind," Jeremy muttered under his breath, swiping a lock of yellow hair off of his forehead. "I don't know how one woman can be so dense and so clever at once. Lord knows I love her anyway."

"We don't always have the sense to find easy people to love," Sarah said slowly, watching her mother accept a glass of champagne from Dinah's mother, near the refreshments table. "Maybe it's worth more that way."

"Maybe so." He gave Sarah an odd look that she didn't notice. "But back to the topic at hand. Congratulations on surviving high school, your Majesty."

Sarah recoiled as if she had been slapped, head whipping around to look Jeremy in the face.

"What!" she exclaimed. "No. No, no, no, no. Don't you dare call me that!"

"It's a much as you deserve," commented Gabriel, looking over his uncle's shoulder. "I've been trying to upset the family all my life, and I've never managed half so well. I couldn't be prouder if you were actually related to me."

"Don't... oh, please don't mention it," Sarah said, flushing red. _A fine queen I make, becoming mortally embarrassed when anyone mentions it. This won't do._ "No one knows about... it. Except for you three."

"We're hardly going to proclaim it to the rafters," Jeremy replied. "For many reasons, as you can guess." He grimaced then, face a comical mixture of humor, sourness, and bemusement. "Still, I find it hard to... no. I'm not going to think about it now. I don't have the luxury of getting drunk afterwards. But someday, Sarah, when we have a spare moment together, you have a lot of explaining to do. Now enjoy your party." He kissed her on the cheek and walked off in the direction of Linda.

Sarah was left with her two cousins. She looked at them; they looked at her, Callista still obviously uncomfortable. Sarah sighed heavily and threw her arms around Callista, who stiffened in surprise.

"I _am_ glad that you came," she whispered into the other girl's ear. "So stop looking like that."

"Oh--I'm sorry--it's just we weren't invited, so I felt strange..." Callista shrugged and smiled sheepishly after Sarah released her. Gabriel rolled his eyes and shook his head ever so slightly.

"Uncle Jeremy told us about this, saying we might like to come and you might like to see us," the young man explained. "And apparently both are true. I also have a matter of business I'd like to take up with you."

"Business?" Sarah inquired curiously.

"Yes. You see, I have decided to leave the Underground for a time--never mind why--and live in the Aboveground. I have leased an apartment in Manhattan where I plan to stay. Callista plans to stay with me, and hopefully the family won't be bothered enough to try to prevent it."

"Really? How did you manage to rent an apartment, without ID or a bank account or anything?"

"Oh, we have our ways." Gabriel's thin smile grew mischievous. "There are more Undergrounders living in the human world than you would believe. Expatriates, you could say. A few of them assisted me... but now I'm getting sidetracked. You see, Jeremy told us that you were going to university in New York this fall. I take it that is still your plan, despite recent developments?"

"Yes," she replied cautiously. _And if discussing him wasn't so embarrassing, then I would be really amused how we're all dancing around the subject of Jareth. No one can come right out and say it. Even me._

"What he's leading up to," broke in Callista, looking up at her cousin with some exasperation on her face, "Is that we'd really like it if you wanted to come and stay with us. Another roommate would be nice, you'd have a bit more freedom than if you were living with some human who doesn't know about your other responsibilities, and if you're there, my family is less likely to show up and try to make me go back to Idunn. No one's going to mess with you now. So it works out good for everyone."

"Really?" asked Sarah again, feeling slow and stupid. Her mind tried to process this surprising request, but it didn't happen quickly. _That is a good point... what would a roommate say to me disappearing at odd hours? They'd be curious, at the very least. Hardly any privacy to practice my magic, too. _All the same, she felt a small pang at the thought of not having a roommate, not living in a dorm. But no matter how much she tried, she would never be able to live a normal college life. Any sort of normal life. That was the price she paid for the Underground.

"It's in the same neighborhood as your school, I believe," Gabriel offered. Sarah blinked.

"How did you manage... no, never mind. You have connections, I know. Wow. I might have to argue with my father, but just by myself, I say 'yes'. Yes, and thank you very, very much."

"Good!" exclaimed Callista, jumping a little and clapping her hands. "It will be wonderful to be around family that's agreeable, for once. No offense, Gabriel."

"None taken," was the dry response. "We can settle details later, I think--I do apologize for taking up so much of your time." Gabriel's head swung around, surveying the space of the restaurant. "Do you need to be mingling?"

"No, well, not really. Most of these people are everyone else's family. I _should _check up on Mom and Dad later to make sure they haven't killed each other... oh! Speaking of. I need to introduce you two to my friends, Dinah and Ben and Aaron. They saw you when you came to collect me, Gabriel, so I don't want them to jump up and start attacking you here now..."

"Loyal friends," Callista said. Sarah smiled a little, standing on her tiptoes to scan through the crowd.

"They are." _And I wish I didn't have to repay that loyalty with lies upon lies._

She saw Ben where he said he would be, standing in a corner with Dinah and sipping a can of Coke. Dinah seemed happy but harried--trying to steal a spare moment away from the relatives that were crowding the restaurant. Her brilliant hair, which had started out the day in an elegant up-do, was starting to snake down around her neck and ears. It had been a long day.

Sarah crooked a finger and the three companions threaded their way through the clumps of chattering adults. Ben and Dinah didn't notice their approach, so Sarah had a scant moment to hold up a hand before the two humans turned, saw Gabriel, and stiffened.

"Hold on, hold on!" she exclaimed quickly. "Calm down. He's friendly this time."

"But--" began Ben. Sarah shook her head.

"It's okay. He was just following orders. But you're done following your grandmother's orders, aren't you, Gabriel?"

"At least where Sarah's concerned," he replied, addressing Sarah's friends. He had dropped his normal expression--enigmatic amusement--for something closer to friendliness. It gave him a more human demeanor. "I'm not going to touch her. Or anyone else. I do apologize for the altercation a few months ago."

"So there you have it," Sarah cut in again, hands moving to her hips in an imitation of Karen. She gave everyone her best reproving look, which was difficult when both of the young men were considerably taller than her. Still, if she could handle Jareth, she could handle anyone. "Everyone's going to play nice now. I'll even make formal introductions so you can pretend you've never seen each other before. Dinah, Ben, these are my two step-cousins, Gabriel and Callista. They came with Jeremy and my mom, which was very nice of them. I think all of you will get along very well."

"Pleased to meet you," said Callista meekly. "We're sorry for coming uninvited..."

"Oh, give it a rest!" Gabriel pushed out through gritted teeth, rolling his eyes for good measure. "Where's your sense of entitlement? I can hardly believe our family produced you."

"Don't worry about it," put in Dinah, who had been watching the proceedings with uncharacteristic silence. Her gaze was calculating as her eyes traveled between Sarah and the two cousins. Sarah knew that Dinah's curiosity about the whole Grandmother affair was still intense. She could imagine Dinah mercilessly pumping the Shining Ones for information the moment she walked away. An unnerving thought.

"What brings you two all the way here?" Ben asked evenly. _Is that the beginning of a conversation or an attempt at interrogation? Well, whatever. At least he's trying._

"Just visiting," was Gabriel's smooth response. "We're the black sheep of the family. Or at least I am; if Callista ever finds her backbone, she might be one too. We've decided we prefer our step-cousin to our other relations."

"Excluding Uncle Jeremy, of course," added Callista, sending Gabriel a look with some steel behind it. "And the Aboveground is terribly interesting."

"Is it really?" This from Dinah again. It sounded reasonably cordial, so Sarah relaxed a bit and scanned the visible parts of the room for Aaron. He was nowhere in sight. She broke into the budding conversation.

"Have you guys seen Aaron recently? I should run over and tell him too."

"He was over near the back hallway, a minute ago," Ben offered. Dinah nodded, a grin suddenly lighting her face. It counteracted the elegant appearance that her high-heels and nice dress had been giving her a moment ago.

"I think he was having a man-to-man talk with your step-father, Sarah. It was really funny. Maybe no one told him that you two aren't dating anymore?"

"What?" Sarah blinked rapidly, absorbing this information. That didn't really make sense. Jeremy followed Linda, right? And he wouldn't have been able to pick Aaron out of the crowd even if he had wanted to. She'd mentioned him when she visited her mom and Jeremy after her birthday, but it was unlikely he'd remember the description. "You haven't even met Jeremy before. How'd you know it was him?"

"You've described him. Short blond hair, British accent, really hot? He was wearing this cool leather jacket, too."

_Uh-oh. Jeremy definitely wasn't wearing a leather jacket._

"Maybe I'd better go find them," Sarah said quickly, taking a step back. "You guys stay out of trouble, okay?" She turned and began walking as fast as kitten heels and propriety would allow her. There was a peculiar twisting feeling in her stomach, part fear, part exasperation, and the tiniest little dash of anticipation. The exasperation far overwhelmed everything else. The young woman had an inkling of an idea of who might be harassing her ex-boyfriend, and his name began with 'J' and ended with 'areth'.

Sarah broke through the edges of the mingling throng and emerged near the entrance to the back hallway, which lead to the bathrooms, the payphone, and eventually the loading dock. There stood Aaron, tie rakishly askew and hair falling over his eyes, hands fiddling with an empty plastic cup. To all appearances, he was having a pleasant conversation with the smiling older man standing in front of him. But Sarah knew better--that particular smile on that particular face had a predatory edge, and Aaron's shoulders were tense. The man was talking, but his words were too low to hear.

"What's up, guys?" the Queen of the Goblins said in a falsely amiable voice, approaching the two males with a smooth glide in her stride. Her hands found their way to her hips. Aaron spun around; the other one was more dignified in his movements.

"I was just talking to your uncle," Aaron said hastily. " But I need go, um, find someone. See you later. Nice to meet you, sir."

"My pleasure," replied her 'uncle' in a baritone purr. Only he could imbue those words with such oblique threat. Both of them watched as Aaron high-tailed it away, moving almost as fast as Sarah had been a moment before. She was vaguely reminded of the phrase _like a bat out of hell_.

"A very polite boy."

Sarah leveled a cold stare at the King of the Goblins. He had the temerity to smile back at her.

"I am _so _annoyed with you right now," she told him. Then she nodded toward the hallway. "Follow me. I want to yell at you in a less public place."

"Aren't you glad to see me?" Jareth asked, unconcerned. "I told you I'd see you later."

"You told _Toby_ that you'd see me later," she said darkly. They started down the hallway; Sarah kept walking out the door on the end, onto the loading area at the back of the restaurant. There was a long railing going along the sidewalk, here; Sarah walked over and perched herself on top of it, feet dangling below. Jareth leaned on it next to her.

"So?" He raised his eyebrows. "What do you have to say?"

"What do I have to say?" she repeated. "Excuse me? That's what I should be asking you. What the hell were you saying to Aaron?"

"Just talking. I was curious about the other man in your life." Oh, he was good at the innocent act. If only one side of his mouth wasn't twitching up and down with a suppressed smile.

"Jareth, seriously. Do you really think..." _Do you really think that there's room in my life for any man besides you, you idiotic control freak? No, best not say that. He'd take it as a compliment._ "Anything between me and Aaron has been over for weeks now. You know that. So why the harassing?"

"I wasn't harassing him, exactly. Just... applying a little bit of pressure. Determining the extent of your relationship to satisfy my curiosity. All under the guise of a protective uncle, of course. Your secret is safe."

"You mean you were harassing him."

"Well... perhaps. If you wish to call it that." He wasn't the smallest bit apologetic. Sarah sighed heavily. She still hadn't gotten used to the fact that Jareth's code of conduct didn't quite line up with that of modern American society. She'd have to work on his manners.

"You could have just asked me about him."

"And you would have told me it was none of my business." True enough.

"But you can't just appear wherever I am to--to-- to finagle information out of people whenever you feel like it!" Sarah exclaimed, folding her arms. "I have appearances to maintain. God knows most people couldn't ever guess the truth, but they can still think something strange is going on. And my friends do know about the Underground. If I have any chance of co-existing between here and the Underground, I need to keep my Aboveground life as normal as possible."

Jareth listened to her speech quietly, watching her as she spoke. He was back in his human disguise, the same one he had used in New York: his blond hair was short and neat, eyes both an even shade of blue, eyebrows long and even rather than upswept and adorned with owl-like markings. The slacks, dress shirt, and brown leather jacket were not at all suspicious, though rather more expensive-looking than most of the clothes at the graduation party. Still--there was something that marked him as different. The smile was too sharp, the gaze too watchful, the movement too fluid. Most humans weren't that predatory. It made people notice him, and that's what she couldn't afford.

"Do you really think that you can?" he asked.

"What?"

"Do you think you can live here and in the Underground?"

"Yes." Sarah shrugged and let her arms fall to her sides again. "I think so. I'm going to try." She sent the Goblin King a sideways look, watching him from the corners of her eyes. "You're going to do your best to keep me in the Labyrinth, though, aren't you?"

"I haven't decided," he replied simply. He sat down on the railing next to her. "I would like to try, but I'm afraid it would have rather the opposite effect than I intend. My plans for you never seem to go right. You're very stubborn and contrary."

"You're very manipulative."

"Ah, so true."

Sarah contemplated this. One mulish teenager and one Machiavellian king, tied together by magic and a strange fascination with each other. Love was a funny thing. She wondered if they would eventually grow tired of one another, tired of arguments and power plays. What if she met a nice, normal guy at college who made her heart twist in the same way? What if Jareth became weary of sharing his life with an inexperienced girl only a fraction of his age? Hard to say, hard to say.

_I'm so young, _she thought. _That's what any sensible person would say. I don't see how this could work. But I don't see how it couldn't work, either._

"I don't know why I like you," she found herself saying, looking down at the white-flecked pavement and their feet resting upon it. Side by side, two brown boots and two delicate white sandals, painted nails peeping out of the front. So completely incongruous. "I hardly even know you."

"A blatant falsehood."

"Is it?" She toyed with a cuff of his leather jacket, rubbing the supple material between her fingers until he shifted and caught her hand up in his own. "When I ran the Labyrinth the first time, you only popped in now and then to taunt me. Then I saw you at Mom's wedding reception, and then we argued once in a dream. I lived with you for a month and ran away. And then we've been together again for the past couple weeks. Not much time, added up."

"Then it is all the more astonishing that we are so well-acquainted."

"I don't even know your favorite color. Or if you have any family. Your birthday. Your favorite food."

"Would that help you know me better?" Sarah could hear the smile in his voice, even if she couldn't see his face. "I have known Ariadne and Daedalus for two millennia; I met your stepfather Jeremiel nearly a century ago. After a few hours in the Labyrinth, you were more comfortable around me than they were for years."

"_Comfortable_?" Incredulous, Sarah raised her head from his shoulder to meet his eyes. Yes, there was the smile she had heard. Not a full-on smile, but a sardonic twist of the lips. "Never."

"You addressed me by my given name and defied me with every step you took. Foolhardy, perhaps, but you did it nonetheless. That must mean something."

"Only that I was scared out of my wits and didn't want to show it."

"Ah, for the glorious days when I could still frighten you." His mouth twisted a little more, the self-mockery growing deeper.

"Poor put-upon Goblin King," Sarah replied lightly. "Emasculated by the little girl."

His smile faded into a half-hearted glare. She could see resignation, bemusement, maybe a little anger.

_Narrowed eyes, mouth in a straight line, watching me from the corner of his vision. Feeling sorry for himself, a little resentful._

This realization struck her like a wave of cold water.

_How long have I been able to read his face so well?_

And laughter bubbled up from her throat. Sarah stretched toward him and kissed him quickly on the mouth, withdrawing after a brief moment. Then she laughed again.

"I think I understand what you mean," she told him.

"No one else has the temerity to laugh at me."

"That's part of it, I suppose. An important part. You need to be laughed at every now and then."

"Do you mind if I change the subject?" he asked. Sarah smiled.

"Go ahead. I can see this topic is too upsetting to your dignity."

"I simply wish to offer you a bit of advice," he told her. "And I believe I am being very magnanimous in doing so, so you better appreciate it."

"Go on, then."

"About balancing your life here and in the Labyrinth. I would suggest that you not keep them so rigidly separate, if you wish to succeed in both. You'll go mad doing so, and there is far more overlap between the two than you might think. When you arrive in the city, this autumn, I promise that you won't walk a mile through the streets before someone recognizes you as an Undergrounder."

"So what do you suggest?" she inquired. And in her mind, she was thinking, _Really? Are there really that many expatriates (as Gabriel called them) in New York? How would they recognize me as one?_

"Weave them together. Make a few nonhuman acquaintances--I don't think it will be hard. Practice your magic in spare moments. Don't think of yourself as only a denizen of the Labyrinth in one world and only Sarah, university student, in another. You are one person, and the same in both."

"I like when you pretend to be wise and helpful," Sarah said. "It's much more attractive than the self-absorbed bastard routine."

"Is it really?" he asked skeptically. "That always worked fairly well for me before."

Sarah didn't comment. On one hand, she didn't want to encourage him. On the other hand, he had a good point. She tended to find him attractive regardless. Very inconvenient. Especially in moments when she was supposed to be angry with him, like now. Her anger was quite unexpectedly gone. So she let it go and tried her own subject-switch.

"You know, Gabriel and Callista made me a very unexpected offer just now."

"Two of the Dara brats? I didn't realize they were here." Jareth's eyes narrowed. "Surely they aren't still bothering you."

"I like them. They're not brats. Or at least Callista isn't. I can't judge Gabriel for certain--he's an odd person. Very reserved."

"Yes," the Goblin King murmured, half to himself. "He's up to something. The eldest son of a wealthy family doesn't act that rebellious unless he has something big on his mind. Not unless he's very stupid, and I understand that is not the case with the young Lord Arian."

"How do you know all that?" Sarah asked suspiciously.

"Your step-father. In fact, that's what we were speaking of the very night that you and I met in your mother's apartment. He was uneasy about the situation. Of course you managed to steal the scene quite well." He took in a breath. "Now tell me about this offer."

"My two cousins are leaving the Underground and leasing an apartment in New York City, not far from where I'm going to college. They asked me to move in with them."

The blankness of Jareth's face told Sarah that this news surprised him. He was quiet a moment, contemplating. Sarah shifted in the silence and added, "I told them I was interested. It would be easier than living in the dormitory with the other students. For you and me."

"Very convenient, that they chose that spot in particular."

"That's what I thought."

"Gabriel obviously wants to send a message to someone."

"That I'm on his side?" questioned Sarah. "It would help if I knew exactly which side that was, but I trust Gabriel. He's always been very fair to me."

"As it benefited him," Jareth shot back.

"Not entirely. He's not completely self-serving--he brought Callista away from their horrible family, and she certainly can't do much to help him in return. She has even less magical ability than Jeremy. That's why they want me to move in with them, according to Callista--with me there, the Daras are less likely to try to make her come back."

"That seems overly optimistic," was his characteristically sardonic reply. "I won't argue with your decision, but I would still like to know what the boy's up to."

"Many thanks," Sarah replied wryly. "Glad to have your permission." They watched each other for a moment. Jareth could have brought up his superior knowledge of Underground politics and the dangers that lay in ignoring them; Sarah could have growled and brought up the fact that she had proved herself quite capable of handling her own affairs. They could have argued. But they didn't.

Sarah leaned over and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his mouth; then, with a regretful sigh, she slid off the railing onto the sidewalk. "I should go back inside. They'll miss me if I'm gone too long."

"A good point. I'll come with you."

"Haven't we already been over this?" Sarah asked in dismay. Her forehead creased slightly as she regarded him. He just shook his head and made a tsking noise.

"Please don't underestimate me, Sarah. If I do not want the humans to ask questions, they will not ask questions."

_The humans_, she thought uneasily. _I will never get used to hearing that distinction between us and them. So I can catch things on fire and make books hover in air. So I may live... a bit longer... than I thought I would. I was born human and raised human. That doesn't change just because of the other stuff. And I definitely don't like that tone of superiority._

"Do you have to mess with peoples' minds like that?"

"Would you rather I just walk in behind you, then? I'd still like to test that delightful scenario you mentioned this morning," he said in reply, a mocking tone in his voice. Sarah's eyebrows lowered heavily over her eyes.

"We were having such a nice conversation. Why did you have to go and spoil it? Do whatever you want. I don't care." And she turned to stalk back towards the doorway, then down the linoleum-tiled hallway and back towards the main room of the restaurant. She very deliberately did not look back and tried to keep herself from even listening for footsteps behind her. _Grrr. God, having an entire world fear you for unnamed centuries does horrible things to your personality. He couldn't always have been this insufferably pigheaded. His parents would have strangled him before he passed puberty_.

If she hadn't been so frustrated, the idea of a boy-Jareth with a cracking voice would have made her giggle. The very thought of Jareth having parents would have been worth a smile or two. But her mind was still roiling too much for amusement and she wasn't ready to let go of her sudden bad mood. _I refuse to cave in,_ she thought stubbornly. _He's never going to become more agreeable if I tolerate his... crotchetiness. No, that makes him sound like a grumpy old man. Rudeness doesn't quite cover it. Oh, nevermind._

Her feet had brought her into the room while her mind was elsewhere. Something tickled at her attention; there was something off about the room, an odd tension. Sarah wrenched her mind away from Jareth and looked around for the whatever-it-was that was causing the tightness in the occupants' shoulders. Familiar voices, familiar _raised_ voices, provided the answer. They were towards the back left corner of the restaurant, away from the sight of most of the party-goers but unfortunately not out of earshot. Sarah ground her teeth together.

"Oh, goddammit," she swore softly, changing her direction. This was what she had been worrying about all morning. Nothing like bitter divorcées to make you feel confident about your own tenuous, argument-wracked relationship. Especially when those bitter divorcées were your own parents, and they were embarrassing you in front of a crowd of onlookers.

"... she idolized you, and you never supported her in one thing she did!" Robert Williams was shouting hotly as Sarah arrived, face reddened.

"I have always supported her!" Linda Carlisle, once Williams yelled back.

"In the form of checks in the mail!" her father replied. "I'm not sure you know what the word means! Where were you on her first day of middle school? When she--"

Sarah had heard enough. Her pent-up annoyance, formerly mixed with anxiety and uncertainty, had now transformed into pure rage. She turned to one of the party-goers who was determinedly trying to pretend they weren't noticing.

"How long have they been at this?" she demanded.

"Um." The man looked very uncomfortable. "Not too long. The volume's been growing gradually. Hopefully somebody will stop them soon."

"I'll say," Sarah muttered. She pushed her way towards the edges of the crowd. Karen and Jeremy were nowhere to be seen. _How could they be stupid enough to leave those two alone? Where'd they go?_ _I'm going to have to break this up myself._

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked coldly, hands fisting at her sides. Her voice was not as loud as theirs and Robert barreled on for a few moments more before processing the interruption. His eyes unfocused on her mother and he blinked slowly; Linda's head turned slowly to look at Sarah.

"We're having a disagreement, darling," she began in a harried tone. She might have said more but Sarah beat her to it.

"At the top of your lungs, at a graduation party for me and my friends? No, I'd say that you're making asses of yourselves."

"Sarah!" her father exclaimed, face still flushed. "Watch your language, young lady."

"I won't," she replied tightly. "If you're going to act that childishly, I'm not going to treat you like an adult. Isn't that what you always said to me?"

Silence.

"I can't believe this. No, that's wrong. I can believe this, but I'm really mad anyway. I don't know exactly what you've been screaming about and I can't imagine what started it, but obviously neither one of you has any regard for me. Thanks to you, I can now add being humiliated in front of all these people to my graduation memories."

"Sarah," Linda began again, her normal coolness frazzled. She looked like she was grasping for words.

"Shut up for now, okay? I'm not done." Her fists tightened. "I am fucking tired of this whole family drama and I'm only going to say this once, so listen up." Her gaze settled on Robert. "Yeah, Mom left us, yeah, she screwed us over. But Dad, you have a great new wife who loves you and a 4-year-old who's probably listening to this right now and a happy life without Linda Carlisle. Get over it."

Then she looked directly at Linda. "Mom, the last six or seven years of my life would have been lot less shitty if you had actually been a mother, rather than the person who's uterus I happened to inhabit for nine months. But you seem be shaping up lately, and you married Jeremy, who I like a lot. I think we can still be friends, but only if you stop acting like a little girl and practice a little self-restraint. You're a successful actress, you're beautiful and relatively young, and you have plenty of money. You don't need to get in screaming matches with your ex-husband.

"As for me, if that's what you two are really concerned about--and I highly doubt that--leave it alone. I'm a grown-up now. The damage is done, but hey, I'm alive and most of the time I'm pretty happy. Not now, of course, but usually. Arguing about who-did-what isn't going to change anything, except making me really pissed off at you. Understand?"

Her parents were obviously dumbstruck. Sarah had never spoken to either of them like that before, with such honesty or with such tightly-controlled emotion. In the past, anger had been expressed in shrieks of _I hate you _and _You don't understand_ and _Leave me alone_. This new self-control seemed to have astonished them.

"I think that you should go apologize to Mr. and Mrs. Valenti for causing a scene at the party they so kindly organized. You could also apologize to Dinah, Ben, and Aaron for interrupting their celebration. You could apologize to me too, if you want, but I'd rather that you just keep in mind everything I just said. I'm going to go away now and get something to drink. Please don't follow me."

She turned on her heel, head held high, and kept her face very blank. Jeremy came barreling toward her from the direction of the door, a half-extinguished cigarette in hand.

"What happened?" he asked, panting.

"My parents were about to start a fist-fight. It's okay now, but you should go chaperone." She patted him on the arm and continued her progress. Distantly, she noticed that everyone cleared a path for her as she walked away. As if they really didn't want to touch her. It was almost funny; no one here had ever been intimidated by her before.

Very carefully, she took a styrofoam cup from a stack and picked up a two-liter bottle of cola. She poured the liquid into the cup, watching the foam rise and disappear with clinical interest, as if she had never seen soda before. As she picked up the cup to take a sip, she noticed that Jareth was standing next to her.

"Oh, it's you again," she sighed.

"Tell me again why you won't come live with me?"

Sarah couldn't help but laugh, a soundless and desperate sort of laugh that held more wryness that happiness. "Most of the time they're perfectly reasonable people. Just put them together, and..."

"Sounds familiar," he murmured. He helped himself to a cup of Seven-Up and tasted it gingerly. Then he winced and quickly set it back down.

"You know, I'm really scared that'll be us someday. That our disagreements will lose their charm and we'll just start hating each other."

"You worry too much," Jareth replied absently, looking among the other bottles on the table. "Maybe we will, but that's life. It's the risk everyone faces, even us."

"Why do my parents have to be such assholes about each other?" Sarah sighed plaintively. "Everything else was going so well. I'm not married to a random nobleman, we managed to come to an agreement, I somehow passed all my finals, my friends are still speaking to me, and I graduated. Then _they _had to go humiliate me in front of the entire room. Why can't I just have a nice happy ending? It's not..." Sarah stopped herself before uttering that last fateful word, gulping it back down her throat.

"Fair?" Jareth finished for her, eyebrows tilting.

"But life's not fair," she told him with another sigh. Jareth smiled faintly and patted her on the head.

"Good job. I'm glad you remembered." He glanced around the room. "If it makes you feel better, I don't think the entire room heard your parents fight. Maybe half the room, at the most."

"Really? That makes me feel so much better." Sarcasm dripped heavy from the statement. "Fifty-odd people, rather than a hundred."

Still, she felt the compulsion to look around the room; and she found that Jareth was right. The people closest to her parents were very determinedly looking anywhere but at them and making loud, fake-cheerful conversation. What a surprise--her parents were actually apologizing to Dinah's parents, and Linda had the grace to look mortified. Good for her. Jeremy was waiting at a distance; Karen was farther away still, holding Toby in her arms and talking to him softly. Sarah's eyes moved on.

On the other side of the restaurant, the party-goers looked the same as ever. There were Dinah and Ben, standing with their arms wrapped around each other, just smiling goofy smiles at each other. Gabriel was talking to three other young men, perhaps Ben's cousins, and somehow making them laugh. Sarah could only wonder why. In a corner nearby was Callista... talking to Aaron. He was wearing his usual earnestly pleasant expression, eyes totally focused on the buxom girl in front of him; she was blushing slightly and looking pleased, most likely unaware of the appealing picture she presented. Sarah's mouth quirked, only the tiniest hint of a smile. She'd feel a lot less guilty about dumping Aaron if he suddenly developed a crush on her bashful step-cousin. He deserved someone as nice as he was.

_If they had heard the fight, no doubt they'd be running to your side_, Sarah told herself. _Or at least that's what you'd like to think. Maybe they just don't care about your dramas anymore. You're getting as bad as Linda_. But then Sarah gave herself a mental shake and chided that tiny little voice in her head. _Oh, shut the fuck up. You really do worry too much._

"What are you thinking?" asked the Goblin King.

"I need to lighten up. Relax. Take a vacation."

"I could help you with that," he replied smoothly. Sarah looked up at him through her eyelashes.

"I don't doubt that for a moment," she said. "Maybe later. Right now... right now, I have a job to do."

"Oh, really? What would that be?"

"To go be eighteen." She flashed him a smile, this one brighter than the last. "Run off and do whatever you do when you're not stealing babies or stalking me. _I_ need to hang out with my friends."

"As you wish, my lady." He inclined his head, a mock bow. "Do try to stay out of trouble."

"That should be easier without you around."

"Probably." His peculiar eyes lingered on hers a long moment; then he turned and strode toward the glass door of the pizzeria; strangely, the bell attached to the entrance remained silent. She continued to watch him as he stepped out onto the cement sidewalk. A couple steps, a shrug of shoulders... then all she could see was a flutter of strong white wings.

Sarah blinked and then forced herself into movement. She put her empty cup down and picked up the one Jareth had poured, curling her lips around the rim where his had touched. The soda was a touch flat, perhaps, but not so bad. She began walking back toward Dinah and Ben.

It had been a long time since she had felt so free; she wasn't going to let her stupid parents weigh her down again. They could spoil their own afternoons if they liked.

_She_ had a lot of celebrating to do.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

First of all, I would like to apologize abjectly for the delay in getting this out. I really did mean to update this months and months ago, but I just couldn't quite figure out how to end the story. Not to mention that I had my own high school graduation and first semester of college to go to. But here the epilogue is, as good as it's gonna get. Finally.

Secondly, but more importantly: thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who has read this, especially those of you who had the patience to stick it out from the beginning of the story. I appreciate your comments enormously--without your help, I don't think I would have finished this 200+ page monstrosity. Even if you didn't ever comment, thank you. Hopefully I entertained you for a few hours.

Will there be a sequel, or unrelated Labyrinth fanfiction? I dunno. I have some ideas swirling around in my head, but I'm not sure they'll ever amount to anything. I want to dabble in some other fandoms... the Stephanie Plum books, The Silence of the Lambs, or FF7, maybe. I haven't decided yet.

So. This is the end. Thanks for persevering. I love you. Kiss kiss. Good bye.

-Dryad13


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